[Intro: Styles P]
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It's a lot of pain (a lot of pain)
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You learn to live with it though (know'msayin)
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Things we do
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[Styles P:]
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Hungry, starvin in beast mode
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Live by the street code, where niggaz take your shit like the repo
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The boys'll sell crack, to your mother if you're good (damn)
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So-called brother in the hood (brother)
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Lord help us (Lord help) you gotta know we possessed (y'know)
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I guess it's the stress that make us a hot mess
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It's somethin on the chest cause none of my niggaz rest (none of them)
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Graveyard shift; my guns with the laser spit
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'Til you're hit, all the tissue come off (off)
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Nobody go to church but they hustle to get across
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Who am I to argue or fight or bicker (who am I)
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When, I could see my demon in the cup of the liquor
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Reflection, my section, shit's gettin thicker (shit's thick)
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Cause love don't mix with the liquor - you should know that
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Gun, knife or bat I'm yellin out hold that
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Twenty, fifties or hundreds, you know I'm tryin to fold that
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[Chorus x2: Styles P]
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I live my whole life for a green piece of paper (five)
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Did some trife shit, for a green piece of paper (ten)
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Did some hype shit, for a green piece of paper (twenty)
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A green piece of paper (fifty) a green piece of paper (a hundred)
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[Styles P:]
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In the game for mad years, paid a whole lot of dues in it
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Never bite the hand that feeds you (never) but the rules is different
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When the hand that feeds you ain't got food in it (what do you do then?)
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Room full of scholars, bet you it's a fool in it (I bet you!)
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Yeah, I learn my wisdom from the wise (whattup)
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But then I learned livin from the lies (salute)
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Both drop the same jewel boy, better get it it's your time (no it ain't)
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But nope I say it's God time
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I'm just a maker of hard rhymes, due to the hard times
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Skin's real thick, you could look at the scar lines
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Sometimes in my mind, I be still on the yard time
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Hittin the bar time; crunches to the push-ups to the dips (yeah)
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But real niggaz push up with the clips (that's what it is)
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My niggaz is raw, you heard right, no cook up in this bitch (no cook up)
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Let it go you better duck, don't look up in this bitch (don't look up)
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We came to body somethin, we ain't shook up in this bitch (we ain't shook)
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[Chorus]
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[Styles P:]
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I did some trife shit, and hype shit (yeah)
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On the grind every night that's why I don't write shit (why I don't write)
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Used to go hand-to-hand, rob niggaz man-to-man
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Hoppin out the hoopty or the van cause I ain't have a plan (I ain't have a
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Plan)
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Now I did a lot of shit, for a green piece of paper (a lot of shit)
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I formed my teams, I was on the scene thinkin major
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Before a e-mail I served fiends off the pager
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Gettin high, dreamin 'bout a green piece of paper
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[Chorus]
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Green Piece Of Paper
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| Styles P |
