Money Trees (Lucifer feat. KNB)
• Written by ItsTheory
ItsTheory's Notes
Money trees. Why criticize artists coming straight from the bottom when they talk about and are fascinated by material objects when you would say the same thing?
//VERSE 1 (KNB):
You've heard from rags to riches, fake rappers are bitches
If I could, I'd plant some greens over all their fucking riches
But what if they spent a day without fucking a hoe or weed
Knowing how it feels to be in pain, how it feels to bleed
What I mean is that false niggas think that they can go solo
But what they need to know is that this world is cruel and so low
You can save a man from getting two bullets in the brain
But he'll stab you in the back, and leave you in the alley slain
Cops shootin' innocents, and ghettos bustin' caps in asses
I bet you half these wack dickheads never passed college classes
Never know how it feels to pay taxes, just smoke grasses
Stop makin' in rain with green, we need real rain in Cali
Wearin' Forever 21, while we're just wearin' khakis
Y'all sippin' in champagne, while we're just drinkin' coffee
Why y'all gotta act cocky, actin' so godly
Cops always find a body, not oddly, life is costly
Face natural disasters, and face serial stabbers
Face other attackers, everyone armed with daggers
Face robbing bankers, and face computer hackers
Avoid all these damn hazards, or have bone fractures
These other rappers are never sastified with women
Don't know how it's like to be raped by men in prison
It's hard trying to lose a drug or drinking addiction
And their only fucking mission is making a billion
I just don't understand, even as we demand
We try and stand, government help us or else we're damned
So many massacres, suiciders and arsonists
Wars against Jews, Muslims, atheists, and Protestants
While these rappers just sit around and party, they're jobless
Basically, they talk about sniffing girls topless
But what if they were in our shoes without their stacks
The they know how it is from riches to rags (Bitches)
//HOOK (X2)
Money trees, stackin' green, stashin' cheese,
emcees with sleaze make cash in a breeze,
comin' straight from the bottom, it's funny, see?
Stupid how you go crazy for them money trees
//VERSE 2 (Lucifer):
It's stupid how we criticize these rappers like they're assholes,
they talk about the flash clothes, cars, money, cash hoes,
they talk about the clubs and the Benz and ratchet bitches,
what would you rap about if you just went rags-to-riches?
I bet they felt their whole life like they've been dazed in defeat,
that's how you'd feel if you grew up, was raised in the streets,
if you had no role models and if you had no chaperones,
growin' up in poverty in ghettoes with the caskets closed,
the stress and all the social work, makes you wanna go berserk,
they slurp sizzurp to wash the pain away, smokin, blowin' purp,
they talk about the foreign cars, bitches, and the finest clothes,
how would all you motherfuckers feel if you were signed to shows?
the green and all the fame, you had skills, were better at it,
tell me, would you brag about the cash, you've never had it,
so, what the fuck would you say? It's annoying on the radio,
no clever rhymes, every time in turns, that's the way it goes,
would if you grew up and couldn't pay rent, cursed tomorrow,
hunger is the feeling, it's like pain, but it's worse than sorrow,
would if you could rhyme and cut ém up just like a chainsaw?
Stay raw? Or flash where you could either rap or play ball?
I know yáll criticize, the shit is lies, in all those quoted words,
but poverty and hunger are frustrating, and just know it hurts,
burns like furnace urns, and you take your turn to purchase it,
now money is a service, but it's worthless, there's no purpose, shit,
once you grow up poor and blow up, money simply ain't the same,
it makes you lie and murder, cheat, deceive when you play the game,
it drives you, makes you way insane, 'till life just wastes away,
but still you have that money, and you come from where pay is lame,
see these little thugs grew up and thought there infinite potential,
wasn't to be used in life, but just a capitalistic mental,
money is the root of evil, they'll die for a piece of paper,
cheat and steal to eat a meal, make the hardest meet the makers,
so now I struck you down, it comes around, now that's funny, see?
What would you do if you were dirt and then sprouted money trees
//HOOK (X2)
Money trees, stackin' green, stashin' cheese,
emcees with sleaze make cash in a breeze,
comin' straight from the bottom, it's funny, see?
Stupid how you go crazy for them money trees
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About the Artist
ItsTheory
Member since January 5 2014