Ha my nigga Politics. Ha my nigga Politics. Ha my nigga Politics. Ha my nigga [Royce Da 5'9"] Seven years and countin, I've been accounting For unaccountable rap problems 'Cause accountant
gotta get we gotta get Gotta get, gotta gotta gotta get get over Somewhere over the rainbow, I'm still the same old same old Ringin around the collar
If y'all niggas don't get ya money right This time you know what sayin' I'm giving niggas till the end of 07 'bout 08 (Where we going?) My bank account
like what happened Feel like I'm movin' backwards Will your friends go If u had to choose International will we be travelin' til we old and blue That
minutes right out ya baby mother I'm still broke, still gutter Hit four chicks, then avenge like folk brothers Then rob a bank teller I'm sorta like old
graveyards First of all, I'm the E of EPMD Rockin' the Player Way like Eightball & MJG Squadron, my click be fully armed I got dough, my account be
time Big time, big time Uh ohh, uh uh, ohh I'm a baller shot caller, baby All da ladies Okay, beg for me to spoil 'em crazy My account on Millie, wrist
this bitch, so God forbid you start some shit My squad's equipped with an arsenal of ammunition Hollow tips an', cop killers with the [unverified] Accounts
log on, baby Eat this dick up 'til it's all gone baby I ain't fake this site is all no-fiction Real pussy, real dick, real friction Convertin' programs wit these secret powers Accounts
, those days are over, I swear it's true You're through, havin' sex for nothin' Hopin' some day some man'll give you somethin' Your own bank account,
or my bite You heard about me and now I'm fucking you from dark to the light You must of thought I got nicer talking about Heiser I'm an old dogg and old
come, I just wanna fuck you and cut Treat you like a trampy slut So much game when homies' tough Meet a bitch like you and smooth come up I have your fake ass closin' up bank accounts
know the west is the best coast We got the best beats, we bump the best hoes Living life way too fast Start snitching and you might not last It used to be about old
chances y'all won't consider Got a loyal broad named Betty Who know what to do with that chrome I give her I'm on the shitter Thinkin 'bout my bank account
that I do, do Everything that I say, say Everywhere that I go, I let 'em know Hey, I'm from the County of Dade Old school Chevy heaven Old school niggas
M.J.G, breakin' dem birds and 8-balls Be careful with them ki's, don't hesitate to squeeze Watch out for them Feds 'coz they hate y'all Bank accounts
a good man He used to loan me books and mic stands He even got me a subscription To the Socialist Review Listening to records in his basement Old folk
shit up, ship it gold So I could sell like the whole Jigga back catalo' Matta fact I'm tryin to sell out, concerts and merch' fam Always get the story straight accounts