C.R.E.A.M. (feat. Method Man, Raekwon, Inspectah Deck & Buddha Monk) Song Lyrics

What that nigga want, God?
Word up, look out for the cops (Wu-Tang five-finger shit, fam)
Cash rules-
Word up, two for fives over here, baby
Word up, two for fives, niggas got garbage down the way
Word up, know what I'm sayin'? (Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. get-)
Yeah, check this ol' fly shit out, word up
(Cash rules everything around me) take you on a natural joint
(C.R.E.A.M. get the money) here we, here we go
(Dollar, dollar bill, y'all) check this shit, yo

I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side
Staying alive was no jive
At second hands, moms bounced on old men
So then we moved to Shaolin land
A young youth, yo' rockin' the gold tooth, 'Lo goose
Only way, I begin to gee off was drug loot
And let's start it like this son, rollin' with this one
And that one, pullin' out gats for fun

But it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiend
Started smokin' woolies at 16
And running up in gates, and doing hits for high stakes
Making my way on fire escapes
No question, I would speed, for cracks and weed
The combination made my eyes bleed
No question, I would flow off, and try to get the dough all
Sticking up white boys in ball courts

My life got no better, same damn 'Lo sweater
Times is rough and tough like leather
Figured out I went the wrong route
So I got with a sick ass click and went all out
Catchin' keys from across seas
Rollin' in MPV's, every week we made forty G's