Hundreds Only (Killin' The Game) (album mix)

You've probably never heard me talking bout killing the game, Spend some time spitting bout that same damn shame of existence with infinite persistence More likely I'll lament the tragedy of the loss of your faculties when I prevent you from receiving the things that you've been needing But instead you just lay there bleeding out from the blight of the devout a rotting sickness brought on by richness of your same slickness But in the end I gotta get paid too, what's any old fucker gonna do Can't get by without it, so I'm gonna make some hundreds no doubt about it I get paid in hundreds only, gotta make them hundreds only that's how I live it hundreds only I want to see them hundreds only Same game for fame and riches that we all keep in our wishes a dream of the Cream of the Crop something sick before you drop and yet it's kept all for none like its a secret locked in Area 51 some brutal truth kept from the youth to kill the game you gotta kill your name that's the only way you'll get what you desire but it'll never be what you aspire for because you didn't want to be that kind of person that sold out your fellow man for a chance at some fancy crib and a van And then if that was your plan from the start that you a cold ass bitch that couldn't give a shit bout anyone but yourself so why you listening to my words when the only thing that matters is your own absurd worldview seen through the veil of your purview We all hypocrites so don't fret, if it works out then you won't have to worry yet But I digress since I possess something that is unmarketable and unprofitable, must be so unremarkable to be another rapper that wants to be a rock star and go far from the place where it all began but ultimately I would like to make some hundreds easily but that's not the way the game goes fighting on against the same foes Ben Franklin certainly could kill the game, get all the bitches back in the 1750s And now that clever old bastards on the only thing that matters to the people that require some cash while they perspire and crash into one another guess that's all they gotta bother with so I just spit this shit cause I need the money and I need the fame but forget it, at the end of the day I know I'll never have either, stuck in place like I'm dying of a fever So I'll work and slave to have the money to make this into a rave, we the people but it isn't true, just like Ben Franklin I'll be killin it too.