Artist: Jeezy f/ J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar
Album:  Pressure
Song:   American Dream
Typed by: Cedmaster3K

{"Cryin', cryin', cryin'"}

[Intro: Jeezy]
Yeah, what's up? (Hahah! Yeah! What's up?)
Welcome to America baby (uhh)
Home of the brave, American Dream, you know? (yeah, uhh)
Uhh, yeah, yeah, let's go!

[Chorus: Jeezy]
I just want a big ol' bag of money when I see my jeweler
Get a hard-on when I'm countin' up that mula
Scarface, into livin' life like a king
Every day eatin' good with my team, the American Dream
First they said I wouldn't but I knew that I would make it
Copped my first pie, yeah, I knew that I could bake it
Scarface vision, living life like a king
Every day grindin' hard with my team, the American Dream

[Jeezy]
You either good or you great, you either real or you fake
That's why I stay spittin' the real because the real ones relate
Y'all must was raised by some haters, you niggas go ‘head and hate
F-f-four car garage for the 'Rari, that bitch came with the estate
I swear them streets get so tricky, glad I ain't fall for the bait
So focused and I'm determined, can see that shit in my face
You niggas go 'head and face it, lil' bitch, ain't shit 'bout me basic
Hit a lick on them bitches and went and iced out a bracelet
Never let my flaws and my past come get the best of me
Turn a 250 to a half, I got the recipe
First my president was black now my president is wack
I ain't never goin' broke, what's American in that?

[Chorus]

[J. Cole]
Got money to make, blow out the candles then cut up the cake
Then I put it on plate, I'm runnin' the game, you runnin' in place
Still a youngin' at heart, but mentally bitch I'm 108
Like Pun in the late 90s, my niggas is jugglin' weight
Runnin' from state to state, gun in the waist for safety
I'm on a paper chase, whatever it takes to make me
A millionaire, silly cause how many really get there?
I mean, how many niggas is Jeezy? Y'all make this shit sound so easy
Breezy, turn on the TV, see these niggas that trap on the CD
Meanwhile, back home, my niggas sell crack at the BP
Hopin' one day they can be thee, niggas is there on the screen
Cause that's the American Dream, now here go the thing
Listen, hysterical screams, comin' from mothers that buried their kings
Or the unbearable pain of watchin' 'em walk out with the sheriff in chains
Becomin' a number, they no longer care about the name
White folks been gettin' rich off of cocaine
Through some underhanded methods, I don't got time to explain
Out of fear that I won't reach 'em and since preachin' ain't my thing
I just drop a gem or two within a few verses I sing
For all my real niggas trapped inside the game
You know that already

[Chorus]

[Kendrick Lamar]
(Yeah yuh) These streets made for ballin'
(Yeah yuh) Ten toes ain't for fallin'
(Yeah yuh) I hear the world callin'
Tell me if you all in (tell me if you all in)
Look-look, I gotta eat
I gotta, make money with, I gotta feast (ay)
I gotta re-ly on what is known to the travelin' man
Set his own, got my Bible and my rifle in my hand, oh yeah
I gotta eat
I gotta, make money with, I gotta feast
I gotta re-ly on what is known to the travelin' man
Set his own, got my Bible and my rifle in my hand, oh yeah