Geah   Hey (c'mon)   To the full degree (c'mon, geah check it out)   (check it out)   We 'bout it   Gettin' that paper   We 'bout it   Check it out      Federalies gaffling up so keep it tight   These songs to do wrong so fuck being right   Late nite hype's the fiends   Nobody serves 'em better to the letter   We gets the chedder   To the way back days   Where the half ounce lays   Gun tucked by the nuts   As the one time struts   Gets my bail on cause I ain't tryin' to get caught around here   Be another nigger locked up for the next 10 years   No shapiro, no ? sapino? , big bambino   Roulette spends 20 g's in the casino   Hits the blackjack decked in armani   (in a 9-6-5 I'm clyde, my bitch is bonnie)   Too sweet   Better yet too clean, pickin' the paper   Takin' you there like the staples, but they ain't catchin' no vapors   You can't see me, nobody I trust   Only the half ounce smokers get no cheese like us      I said do you got paper?    Check it out      I said we got paper, no doubt uh   Get your scrilla anyway you can   Floss around town, bitch who's the man...      To the days   When I used to keeps my stash in the bush   Nowadays be clientele with parents that push   In my drop top with the laptop keeping up president straight   Ok, who gots the pick-up? bitch touch down at 8   My niggas got the pick-up, the pager starts ringing   It's payday, ho's know, that's why they start singing   Dollar bills y'all   And me throwing away pleas   Fools got me too fucked up thinking snaps grow on trees   Ain't no government given away free cheese   And the bitch going through anything that floss on these d's   Better watch out cause they might have you straight to your knees   Have a nigga stretched out to the first degree   Not me - drivin' planes to big yachts   It's getting kinda hectic, I'm shaking the spot   Chill ride, never pop, work this job, cold bitches that's down   Married to this mob      Chorus...      Money don't come easy   24 hour stand offs pushes to clucks with ? hand off?    No bitches ever ran off   With my pocket full of gold cause we got plenty of tecs to unload   My perils bring paradise   West side till I die, uh   Pocket full of ice   No vice squads   Ho's still   Walks the boulevards   Pimp scenes, mac mall and willie green   Got a feather in my black hat nobody can't touch   Paper pretty much that's with starsky & hutch   Give me the fed time   Locked away won't be nice, peep a nigga stretched out with federal life   Hard times   No way out, better surrender   But I got clout to stay out till next september   D.a. I'll pay-pay fly away   To another country that won't extradite my stay   Me and a little senorita by the bay   Pounds of yay' mr. tony ? ole?    And ain't nobody got paper like this   Geah      Chorus...      Half ounce in the house   Half ounce in your mouth   And ain't nobody got paper like this   Geah