[Chorus 2X: (Cream)]
I don't care what people say
I'm gonna get 'em for a paper chase
I don't care what people say
I'm gonna get 'em for a paper chase

(EMP)
Know I got that feeling that the pimp gone make a killin'
Droppin' them bodies off by the dozen I wouldn't mind, makin' a zillion
'cause there ain't no love, like that love that's on the down low
Always watch your back, for some of them niggas they call your kinfolk
I'd rather be broke, then one of them niggas that's on the board
Every option that I got, got me livin' by the ????
Over here, givin' a toast, to some of the niggas that did they dirt
Nothin' wrong with recognizin' the real, fightin' and puttin' in work
I got some things I need to do, in the pursuit, in my one lifetime
And ain't no more two-stompin' me, only grant for makin' my grind
And I'ma get in, where I fit in my nigga, we both can roll, for the ride
Sleepin' your head,
and nigga you fall to your knees when it's time to compromise
I'm at the point of no return, only concerned with the fact
Know that I feel with this hustlin' two thousand trick,
tryin' to hold you back
On the bow, leanin' with one foot ahead and the bow, is bound to break
No more shots, no more pop,
because he's dead and it's time for the paper chase

[Chorus]
(Mac Cris)
Now smoke a blunt wit'cha boy, commit Cream got that green
Now shoot them toys wit'cha boy, 'cause you know we on the scene
And put them things in your face, 'cause I'm ready to catch this case
You fuckin' around with me and Cream gone do this shit today
Now get it crunk wit'cha boy, don't front on your boy
And if you thuggin' up in the gates, let me see you get it up
Now hold it down with your nigga, when you smokin' up in the truck
'cause you claim that you smoke pound, but you might get your shit smoked up

K to the I to the N to the G
G to the A to the T to the E
Smokin' and chokin' on swisher sweets
Keepin' you crunk and in on your feet
In this game ain't nothin' but G's
Fuck that shit you tryin' to plead
One in your head and then you dead and you gone fall to your knees
HEY!!!!!

[Chorus]
(Cream)
Now smoke a blunt wit'cha boy, smoke some fire green with me
Go and get some plastic toys I think somebody tryin' to get me
I can't FRONT on ya boy, 'cause every night I'm gettin' that green
Everybody be smokin' a pound, with the Cream on the scene
Don't make me get crunk on ya boy, 'cause real niggas they move in silence
I've been known for shootin' them toys in case them suckas want to get violent
Now what'cha want from your boy? Cream olde English and some of this weed
Turnin' all of my enemies into manipulatin' fiends
But if you want it, you can get it
If you smoke it, two can hit it
I ain't perpetratin' with it
I'm gone hit it until it's finished
And just like Popeye eat his spinach, I'ma stay crunk off this all day
I don't care what the people say, WEED make my paper straight
So HOLD IT DOWN wit'cha boy, don't hesitate to get 'em up
Go head and smoke up what you smoked up 'cause today we gettin' fucked up
We smoke a pound up in my chevy, rollin' round we makin' credits
I ain't messed up bout no change
We havin' thangs and I'ma remain the same
On top of the game, you niggas just can't get crunk up like my crew do
Nigga we smoke weed like Wahoo, I get fucked up 'cause I want to
Now who knew? That Cream'll be makin' the money with niggas that get paid?
Sippin' on Dom and I parle' HEY!!!!!
Cream about that paper chase!!!!!

[Chorus (.5x)]

Writer : MYRIE, MARK ANTHONY/REID, JERMAINE/GREEN, AUSTIN
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing