J-Spice - Paper Chase (feat. Rgb) Lyrics

Lost in a paper chase, Ben Franks, save their face
Cards that we're dealt, Ima play it like a Ace of Spades
Sip till your sick, a fifth mixed with gatorade
Been through the heartbreak from the money with no 808

Eyes on the prize, close your eyes or just stay awake
Couldn't even tell that I'm an Asian cause I make mistakes
Got me scheming for the money with these hundreds, great escape
Lemme get this bread, get the eggs, like we making cake

Like which one came first is it chicken or eggs?
So I write and recite till I wish I was dead
A slave to a corporate world blinging with chains
Till I bloat then I float like the Michelin Man

Money, I don't get it, society cannot forget it
People think I'm pathetic, the ways I'm making bread and
The means that we collect it, isn't the way you spend it
"There's no money up in music", but I rap it like a present. F*ck em

Turned my tap water to tequila like Jesus
Catch me smoking mids out in Beirut
Yeah I got the hits like babe Ruth
Had to bump old Kid Cudi to erase you

Water turn to dollars my drip trickling down
Laughing to the bank, my shit tickling now
All US dollars, still I stick with the pounds
Money over god, got me kissing the ground

She say she turned on by the piercings and the tattoos
Polar bear toes the way I know that I be mad cool
RGB smash jewels and bashfully bash fools
They just mad around me cuz I know that the cash rules

I been tested like a lab rat, you a sad sack
New chick, used to smuggle Yayo in her asscrack
Looking like IHOP, I'm all about the fat stacks
Still getting pounds muthaf*cka, no hashtag

One. Two. Three. Four
How much money can you let go?
One. Two. Three. Four
How much money can you let go?

One. Two. Three. Four
How much money can you let go?
I don't know. I don't know
I don't know how much money I can let go

I got bars like they golden, gas like petroleum
Bags full of cash and the hostage we be holding
They don't even notice, like a mask on his head
Bounty full of riches, like it's cash on his head

Cashing the check, at the moment, miraculous bread
Out the toaster oven, Jesus Christ, cracking this bread
Steady paper chasing, you get served napkins instead
Tryna get these ones and zeros, jack in and you're dead

And these Os are Percentage, hoes that be jealous
It grows like it's lettuce, supposed to be a menace
Controls the world we live in, holds the independence
But f*ck what they about cause society ain't even get it

So the money we be making, it don't make any sense
We try to live accordingly to the shit that makes cents
We can't take it when we die all you ladies and gents
So the only thing we're wasting is the time that we spend. F*ck it

I'mma dick her down, sipping on the liquor now
I'mma different sound, shooter like I'm mister Brown
Finesse your sister now, Xannies in my pitcher now
Big waves on the richter, grammies in the picture now

Booty like Ms. Chaisson
Popping like a raygun
Fronto gonna face one
Shawty wanna say sum

Banging like a steel drum
Feelings I conceal um
Apple store I steal from
Knew I was a real one

Better sit down, my performance isn't done
Got a shortie in the front with a 40 and a blunt
No I ain't the daddy I'm like Maury with the cum
Shit, I been getting high that's according to my blunt