Dollars and Sense es una canción interpretada por DJ Quik. La canción puede ser escuchada a través de la estación West Coast Classics.
Letra[]
- [Verse 1]
- Now let's get down to business, bitches
- Cause it seems like y'all just keep on tryin to diss this
- Nigga that you know that's been down for years
- I've clowned for years and y'all could never fade my peers
- One two three four five six seven
- Nine ten Eiht you can't win
- Cause all the way around nigga I gets respect
- And youse a nigga that can't even get no props in your set
- Tragniew Park you say huh
- Wanna be rippin, but now it's time to do some set trippin
- So listen close, cause I don't want y'all to miss
- That I'm bout to break it down for this bitch, check it
- Acacia, Poplar Maple Spruce Cedar Elm
- Westside trees sprayin all the fleas
- That's from the three and four hundred block P-Funk riders
- (So niggas watch yo' ass at that center divider *gun blast*)
- Now Aaron Tyler, tell my why you seem so tame
- When I caught you at the airport, shakin like a crap game
- You looked up and you seen my niggas comin
- And you looked like your bitch ass was bout to start runnin
- But all I wanted to do was kick a little conversation (yo whatup)
- And see if we can fix this little situation
- But would I fuck you up was what you wondered
- Yeah, that's probably why you changed your little pager number (punk ass)
- But bitches like you don't grow
- You can't even look me in my eye, let alone go toe to toe
- And callin me skinny, youse a clown
- I'mma call you Theo, cause you weigh ninety-two point three pounds
- Wack ass actor, movie script killer
- Fool don't you know, Quik is still the nigga
- Compton psycho, boy you oughta quit
- Your records don't hit, and bitches don't jock your shit
- You need to stay down you Compton clown
- And get off of the nuts of the niggas with guts
- Because I'm down with the Trees, I'm down with Death Row
- I'm down with Black Tone, and I'm down with the fo'
- So when we cross paths and I hope that's soon
- I'mma boot your motherfuckin ass to the moon
- You need to quit bangin under false pretense
- Cause if don't make dollars, it don't make sense
- [Hook]
- If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense
- So don't kill game, let the pimpin commence (x3)
- Because you gotta give it up to the crown prince
- [Verse 2]
- Now I'mma swing it to the right and, right into the left hand
- Take a deep breath and, cook it like a chef and
- This is dedicated to the C-P-T
- No better yet T-T-P, or the niggas that look up to me
- I make it my business, to be that true forever
- And whenever I can come clever well that's my endeavor
- So whether or not you understand, that there's only one DJ Q-U-I-K
- With no C still you can't be me
- Because I'm floatin in my Lex and, depositin fat checks and
- Gettin mad sex while I floss the NSX and
- Doin what I wanna, and youse a goner nigga
- For thinkin that you can catch me slippin on a street corner
- Remember Compton's in the house, and Quik is in the hood
- Sippin yak with all my niggas cause it's tooted good
- So don't knock it til you try it, cause Eiht he tried to knock it
- But he's still walkin round with my nuts in his pocket (beyotch)
- So put tha P in it represent and sip that Miller
- And for those of y'all concerned, this is still Eiht Killa *gun blast*
- Let me take a load off my scrotum little pest
- If it don't make dollars nigga, you know the rest
- [Hook]
- [Verse 3]
- Now I done sold my fuckin' soul to the shit that I kick
- While you groupie ass niggas keep on ridin the dick
- You oughta know that DJ Quik ain't your average everyday motherfucker
- (hah)
- Slick like a snake cause I stuck ya
- Now, I never had my dick sucked by a man befo'
- But you gon be the first you little trick ass ho
- Then you can tell me just how it taste
- But before I nut I shoot some piss in your face
- You fuckin coward, tremblin like a nervous wreck
- Cause when I caught your ass, you put yourself in check
- And when you left my presence, you left expedient
- You ain't no fuckin killer, youse a comedian, beyotch
- Tell me why you act so scary
- Givin your set a bad name wit your misspelled name
- E-I-H-T, now should I continue
- Yeah you left out the G cause the G ain't in you
- Remember that time you was rollin on the Westside
- And a little brown bucket pulled up on your side
- Caught at that light in your Camry in the midst of a REAL killer
- Tell me did you feel a little nervous (hell yeah)
- You was in the shadow of death
- With two trey-five-sevens pointed at your chest, hmm
- Whatchu gon do, where was your niggas that kill at
- You ain't got no killers so kill dat
- Holdin up your hands and beggin for a pass
- You lucky they didn't just to get to dumpin on yo' ass
- Cause this game you think is funny is some real shit
- So you need to be more careful who you fuckin wit, beyotch!
- [Hook]
- [Verse 4]
- I'm through playin with your punk ass
- If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense
- So don't kill game, let the pimpin commence
- If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense
- Because you gotta give it up to the crown prince
- [Outro]
- Shouts goes out, to my well known road dog
- What's up Dozun Tru, they don't understand it baby
- They can't fade us out here on these Compton streets (beyotch)
- It's bigger than they can imagine
- To the whole entire Death Row family
- Both sides, whassup niggas
- And my nigga big Suge, known for keepin shit poppin
- To my nigga Big J, my little nigga Hi-C, little straight G
- And that little singin ass nigga Danny Boy
- Y'all don't understand, y'all can't fade this
- I'M the first nigga that was "Bangin on Wax"
- Yeah if you remember, nineteen eighty-seven underground tapes
- And it don't stop, and it won't stop