Horas extras (feat. Dj Dmoe)

Yeah
Money ain't everything but
I hate being broke, crying in a tinted car
To do it in private is better
Don't tell me no
If you ain't rappin' for the money, then
Tell me what you in it for
The concept is to shit on the concepts
With dialects that have more style than Alberto
I keep calm but
I want to be flashy like Fausto in Parma
I want to be the boss of cachaco in the box
And you keep waiting for them to call you sitting on the bench, yeah
Don't confuse me with your style, fail
And if he gets into the groove it's because he dances
Uh, yeah, this stew is seasoned, baby
Involves like a panty play
I keep looking for the reason
Like the cricket that keeps looking for weight in the big belly
They say "at the top it gets lonely"
Can't say what's real and what's phony
Get your money, I'mma get mine, I'mma get mine
Baby, get my mind right
They say "at the top it gets lonely"
Can't say what's real and what's phony
Get your money, I'mma get mine, I'mma get mine
Always gotta get mine
Oh
I wrote this without money
It's when I live a cat's life
That I age in dog years
It's when I'm at zero
That hate is also affection
And as a gift, even a slap
I abuse my muses then they charge me
You have to make them suffer because if not they ignore me
What they call inspiration, I call distress
But hopefully they don't make me surplus, brotha
If I can't find the substances, I better quit
I distill styles with the lexicon that excites
I don't listen to you if you have depth of a puddle
You guys rap a lot when I'm not close
Oh, they say the mice party
Only when the cat doesn't show up
Sleeping is a cousin of dying, that's why I don't nap
Negotiating with death, living life, overtime
They say "at the top it gets lonely"
Can't say what's real and what's phony
Get your money, I'mma get mine, I'mma get mine
Baby, get my mind right
They say "at the top it gets lonely"
Can't say what's real and what's phony
Get your money, I'mma get mine, I'mma get mine
Always gotta get mine
They say "at the top"
Money, I'mma get mine, I'mma get mine
Baby, get my mind right
The fat that even the athletic swallows
Now keep it on, keep it raw, funky, fresh
You love rap and rap has you in the friendzone