C.R.E.A.M.

[Intro: Kendrick Lamar]
It's all about this money, kid
It's all about this money, C.R.E.A.M
Y'na'mean?
I gotta get it, son
I gotta get it, my pocket's hurt again
(Cash rules everything around me
C.R.E.A.M., get the money)
Starvin' out here, yo
(Dolla dolla bill, y'all)

[Verse 1: Jay Rock]
I grew up on the crime side
The LA Times-side
Wrong turn might mean homicide
Used to move with the Rupers
Talk shit, we'll shoot ya
At your dice game, rob ya for your moolah
It's like that
Cash rules everything
Fiends strung out
So they try to sell you anything
Listen son
Never sell crack for fun
I was hungry
A nigga sold crack for funds
Had to get my weight up
Enemies, sprayed up
Got rid of the whole brick, and then we re-up
Sittin' in a money spot
Cookin' up the product
You tried to infiltrate the shop
You got shot up
Lil kids in the projects
They wanna be us
No father figures
Nothin' that you could teach us
Ghetto streets-raised
Is blowin' weed and Black & Milds
Gangbangin'
Cane-slangin' for deaths and miles
Livin' wild
Young, black, and don't give a fuck
Just a young hustler
Specializing in getting bucks
Nigga, some garden is where we get our hustle at
Ain't shit to say even one time
We bussin' that
There's no discrimination
You will get assassinated for the paper
Shoot first and ask questions later
See ya later, alligator
As your casket drop
Then we back to the block
And we steady sayin'

[Interlude: Kendrick Lamar]
(Cash rules everything around me)
Yo, straight up son
(C.R.E.A.M., get the money)
That's what it's about
(Dolla dolla bill, y'all)
It's all about this cream, y'all
(Cash rules everything around me)
Cash rules everything around me
(C.R.E.A.M., get the money)
Y'na'mean?
(Dolla dolla bill, y'all)

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]
Snotty-nosed kid with dreams of getting C.R.E.A.M
Like cake batter
By any means, son
We make your face splatter
Word life
I never understood the broke type
Thinkin' back then when I hustled my first stolen bike
I used to gamble with silver dollars
Now I gamble with Benjamin Franklins, Dom Pérignon, and lobster
Money-making for real, kid
I'm tryin' stay fresh like Will did
Back in the '90s
Killer bees behind me
Swarming anything that enter the perimeter
Of this money-making machine
When winter come
It goes down
We balls out
And you?
You just out of bounds
Without a doubt
We move in unison
You move like a Honda with the brakes gone out
Out of control
You just might
Powder your nose
If you step on the mic after me
Drug residue
Every time I leave the booth
You fall far behind
A time machine can't save you
Me?
I'm ahead of the pack
Like a high-speed pursuit
We kick flows
Then rekick 'em like kung fu
I'm Bruce Lee
Whether Nikes or Timb boots
Beefcake the poppy, see
We ain't scared to shoot
Carry three pieces on me
Like a Steve Harvey suit
I'm on my Method Man shit
The 3 west coast Wu Tang members now exist

[Verse 3: Ab-Soul]
For the C.R.E.A.M. I beam to retrieve it
Believe it
I ain't only sowin', I reapin'
Benefits up the asshole
Is that so?
Damn straight
Fabricated transaction by a handshake
I win by a landslide
Scopin' your landscape
Kick in the damn door
Give me your damn safe
They all say crime don't pay
But if it'll get me more than what this 9-to-5 gon' pay
Rock, let me borrow the K
Hit my adversaries
I'd rather it be a bullet than my vocabulary
Currently stash currency in the shoebox
For emergency purposes only
So I'm never worthless
Bubblin' like a bottom of my way
Way, stacks so fat
Benjamins growin' a double chin
Raised the quota for quotas
Hunnid dollar knot holders
Livin' that dream
Gettin' that C.R.E.A.M
It take 36 Chambers
That's 18 double-barrel shotties aimed at everybody in the way
No gettin' between this
Just a genius
Inspect your deck
No money involved?
Expect eject
Yo, it's only for Cuban links
And your necklace is anorexic
Get your weight up
I'm runnin' to the bank like I'm off a bounce pass
Then I layup
I live every day up
Top notch
In other words
Stay up