Get a Job lyrics

[Verse 1]
They tell me find a job, but a n*gga cannot survive off a 9 to 5
Selling nicks and dimes won't cut it
And now a n*gga buzzing
So I'm looking for a budget
Cuz your sister and your cousin
Hear and want to start cutting
Until I'm nutting
Trying to get to the top
I ain't even press a button
It's nothing
Pack two duffel bags with cash
Gotta work out my muscles
Take them to the dealer so I can leave with two muscle cars
Eating mussels in a bar
b*tch, I'm so bizarre
So far, then what you can fathom, I want to be living large
No f*cking strings attached, I do not play guitar
No more being lenient, I'm trying to raise the f*cking bar
With a couple bars
And chilling, f*cking with a couple stars
n*ggas know that the flow is harder than dried tar
My God
Played daily on many iPods
And f*ck around n*ggas will get split in half like a pie chart
My n*ggas don't play no f*cking games homie
I'm driving persistent, listen I got my own lane, homie
Ask them what they want, tell them what we got, that f*cking flame homie
Your b*tch running loose, you better get that ho tamed homie
Got no time for these impostors
I'm smoking ganja, patiently waiting for the pasta
For the munchies
I see why these other n*ggas is grumpy
Balling but their b*tch f*cking with a rapper, Kris Humphries
[Verse 2]
Slow down P, ya killing them
Leaving them in the dirt from 11th Ave to 1st
Trying to make it to heaven, but still build up my worth
It's like I'm a drug dealer, fiends looking for that work
Sex, money, and drugs
The root of evil but its what gets honeys to love
Til they bless money above
I'm sonning these n*ggas like I got a tummy to rub
God bless my unborn, he'd probably grow up to be a thug
If I kept him in the hood, sh*t
When he turns 16 he should be living good
Riding around without a hood
I never been trash or a drag, no Michael Clarke
Only time I go back on my words is when I recycle bars, n*gga
See I've been rapping for a minute now
So I know we about to make it, tell my homies simmer down
I know it's been a while
Searching for that spinach now
Gunning for the summer, so I'm lamping in the winter, how
Many n*ggas you know rapping now
How many of them biting on another rappers style
How many of them really gonna make it rapping, now
These fake Gs repping red like they're kappas, wow
f*ck out of here, you n*ggas phony
Don't deserve the spot you own, my n*ggas died from holding the grip
Rest in peace my n*gga Allen
Just a young n*gga wilding
Til' the pigs took him down, sh*t