The Root

<a href="http://music.illcity.com/track/the-root">The Root by Ill City</a>

Hook
There’s a devil in the fire
There’s a serpent in the sea
There’s a problem getting higher
When I’m chasing all this green
(Repeat)

Verse One
You want a nice little crib off in east B. Hills
For less than seven digits? Please be real
It might cost you a quarter just to piece the deal
Trying to roll half decent? Least three mil
Want a nice little Range,TVs and thangs
Well that’s 68 base, plus 20 to get it laced
88 easy and when you think you’re straight
They gone drop a new model and change the shape
Oh you like diamonds? Check the four Cs
Carat weight, color, cut and clarity
A wholesale two carat from D to E
VVS? That’s gone run you about $30Gs
Now you see why these thugs got a gun in they waist
Why the roll up on the ballers with a gun in they face
They ain’t got no credit and they got no jobs
They got loaded Berettas and it’s time to rob

Verse Two
Man she stay broke, but she wants to play
She want that hand made blouse and Picasso spray
Want them black Prada boots and imported slacks
Better stick with some Kohl’s or the Nordstrom Rack
Got a bootleg purse from the Chinese shop
Don’t tell me it’s real, I’m knowing the deal
Her funds they stay low ‘cause she spend too much
Now her maxed out Visa got her in too much
So she gets depressed, goes under the weather
Thinking some more shoes will make her feel better
Whatever, all them things – they replacements
You ain’t happy with yourself, face it
Now you see why these broads trick for loot
Why they hang out with ballers that they know ain’t cute
They got no more credit and no more green
Just a fetish to shop and it’s time to scheme

Bridge
Money is the root, you don’t need much proof
Yo, dollars make the street pull heat and shoot
Money is the root, you don’t need much proof
I watch broads trick off for big cheese and coupes
Money is the root, you don’t need much proof
Yo, dollars make the street pull heat and shoot
Money is the root, you don’t need much proof
I watch ‘em die for the love of the loot – its economics

Verse Three
See I was never in the hustle, I came to rap
But the rap game’s a hustle, so I came with that
Broke cats try to stick you when you earning your stack
Then run it back and try to get you when you turning your back
I’m like yo, we trying to live, what’s the matter with that?
There’s no need to ill, as a matter of fact
You hoes need to chill, or I’ma crack the bats
Do you like Venus and go back to back
Like this no good promoter trying to get over
Yeah bogus little show out in Ocean Beach
Said he’s short with the dough, well I’m short with my flow
And the room looks packed; hate dealing with sneaks
See that’s the problem with fools want to act so lame
Look your dollars ain’t right? Who’s to blame?
Only yourself dawg, better switch your game
Or you could lose your life quick trying to get some change


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