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Artist: Minus f/ Cappadonna, Krumbsnatcha
Album:  Double or Nothing
Song:   Dollars & Sense
Typed by: Davida.b.

[Intro: Cappadonna (Minus)]
Yeah (Minus, Cappadon) Yessa Yessa my Lord, it's real up in here
(Yes) You know how we do, Hood LLC, this go out to everyone that Graduated
And everybody that didn't, straight up and down yo
Yeah, uh huh, there's no turning back, the true sound, yo

[Cappadonna]
It's more lonely at the bottom then it is at the top
More brothas climbing it out, making it hot
It's me, straight hustler, be counted alot
Cappadon seen brothas get stabbed and shot
I'm in the hood with ya'll for real, ready to rock
And I hold the big shit like BIG and Pac
C'mon test my glock, yeah, test my glock
C'mon test my glock, yeah, test my glock

[Minus]
Yo I've been around for a while, so I seen some shit
Held it down for a minute from the Bean to the Sticks
I get the sound when I'm spitting while ya'll clowns is basic
I move pounds from the killa to the green to the chips
Ya'll should face it, I'm sayin I should ease a bit
But like the Sox, cuz nobody can say they believed in em
Cuz when I drop, I'mma grab hold and squeeze shit
I bet you never the the Bean had some heat like this

[Chorus X2: Sample (Cappadonna)]
Oh, I'm holding (More dollars & sense)
Yes, I'm holding (More love & knowledge)
Oh, I'm holding (More bricks & chips)
Oh, I'm holding (More dollars & sense)
Yes, I'm holding (More love & knowledge)
Oh, I'm holding (More bricks & chips)
(And ya'll gon love the hits)
Yes, I'm holding (And ya'll gon love this shit)

[Krumbsnatcha]
Realize this realizm, living life on the edge
When your hood's at war with police and the feds
Schitzophrenic, paranoid, with the ratch' in my waist
Anybody out of luck could get put back in their place
Catchin case after case, man, streets is real
Till the judge give you numbers the size of football deals
And appeals cost a fortune, every block hot and scorching
Nowadays the only way you gettin paid is by extorting
Coffin cherry red, many dead up in the box
Violent for many years, why you think it's gon stop?
Only thing we look for, money and some cooked raw
Feels like a recession, so why you think we crook for
Bootleg liquor, drinkin squeeze, little gs
Bloody keys that be spreading through the streets like a disease
We sieze opportunities, blessing our communities
Everybody for delf, there's no hope for unity

[Chorus]

[Minus]
Started writing rhymes by the age of thirteen
Bout the shit I dealt with and learned in the streets
Hustle hard son, that's why I'm getting known in the scene
Guess I'm just a kid from the hood who fathered a dream
And grew up, in fact, I've always been a fan of the game
From Wu-Tang, to Biggie, to even Dr. Dre
It's like I learned from the best in every possible way
I give my all on every record, every one of them bang
Thats how I got this far, thats why I run so hard
It's why I'm never gon stop till I'm popular
Came up man, I'm always gon rep for def
Till I'm seeing record sales cuz I'm lining the shelves
Yeah, so whatchu know aobut the shit I went through?
To get where I'm at and where I'm about to head to
From runnin on the streets to getting live in the booth
On tracks with Krumb, beef, I ??? as Wu

[Chorus]

[Outro: Cappadonna]
Yessa yessa, real music, 2005, we gon make it this time kid
More money, for real, more dollars, more love, more knowledge
Yessa yessa, throw ya joint up, uh huh, if you got hip-hop on your mind
What, uh