What a Job

Rolling up another Swisher, listening to the beat again

Drinking, but we concentrating, smoke another Sweet again

Steadily rewinding tryna make some hot shit

Oh, what a job this is

Another all-nighter tryna get it done

Barely make it home with the morning sun

Baby mother thinking that you on some other shit

Oh, what a job this is

Drinking, yet I'm thinking of another rhyme

Smoking, hoping that some bad news will come other time

'Cause I'm trying to do what I'd love, I love what I do

This music is something more different than the weed and the brew

That's why we mashing, we ain't asking for nothing, we working for it

Push it, peddle it to the people, they can't ignore it, this is for

All the independents, a few major labels

The big studios who still give **** favors

On the mixing and mastering, puzzling and plastering

The tracks together on tapes, CDs, wax, or whatever

This is for all the engineers who smoke weed

Can't forget about the production cost and all the hidden fees

For another rhyme written, we spend time spitting in the booth

Sometimes, it's like a pigeon coop

But it's all for the cause, yeah, so I'm

Gonna continue to MC and smoke weed, you know I'm

Rolling up another Swisher, listening to the beat again

Drinking, but we concentrating, smoke another Sweet again

Steadily rewinding tryna make some hot shit

Oh, what a job this is

Another all-nighter tryna get it done

Barely make it home with the morning sun

Baby mother thinking that you on some other shit

Oh, what a job this is

As easy as it looks to you, I make it look so easy

With the music I be making, the impression I be leaving

A lotta folks, they stop and stare, thinking I'ma trick it off

I roll another bleezy, puff it, pass it, and shake it off

Move on to the next phase and it's amazing

The next generation of rappers, big Snoop Dogg raising

Mmm, that's fifteen years in the game

Still got the fortune and fame, yeah, I'm doing my thing

Check this, Devin, somebody said that real Gs go to heaven

So I'ma keep spitting the truth on these fools like a reverend

Stay open like 7-11, that's 24/7

When you need some hot shit, stop by, and get you a beverage

I'm serving my rhymes like nickels and dimes

Plug it in, let it play, and let me blow your mind

It's the dominant conglomerate, prominent, and I'ma get

What I gotta get, twist another Sweet and bob to the beat

Rolling up another swisha, listening to the beat again

Drinking, but we concentrating, smoke another Sweet again

Steadily rewinding tryna make some hot shit

Oh, what a job this is

Another all-nighter tryna get it done

Barely make it home with the morning sun

Baby mother thinking that you on some other shit

Oh, what a job this is

We work nights, we some vampires

**** gather round the beat like a campfire

Singing folk songs, but not no Kumbaya, My Lord

You download it for free, we get charged back for it

I know you're saying, they won't know, they won't miss it

Besides, I ain't a thief, they won't pay me a visit

So if I come to your job, take your corn on the cob

And take a couple kernels off it, that would be alright with you

(Hell no) Yeah, exactamundo

But we just keep recording and it ain't to get no condo

And candy, Bentley, Fanny with no panties in Miami

And that cute lil' chick named Tammy that you took to the Grammys

See, we do it for that boy that graduated

That looked you in your eyes real tough and said, 'ppreciate it

And that he wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for your CD, number 9

And he's standing with his baby mama, Kiki, and she cryin'

Talking 'bout that they used to get high to me in high school

And they used to make love to me in college

Then they told me 'bout they first date, listening to my tunes

And how he liked her finger nail polish

I say, hate to cut you off, but I gotta go

I wished you could tell me more, but I'm off to the studio

Gotta write tonight

Hey, can you put us in your raps? I don't see why not

Devin is the dude, you gon' probably hear him talking 'bout

Rolling up another swisha, listening to the beat again

Drinking, but we concentrating, smoke another Sweet again

Steadily rewinding tryna make some hot shit

Oh, what a job this is

Another all-nighter tryna get it done

Barely make it home with the morning sun

Baby mother thinking that you on some other shit

Oh, what a job this is

Yeah, this life we live

What a job this is

Real spit, man

A lotta folks wanna walk in these shoes

But they just don't know, man, it's a hell of a job, man

To be a rapper, MC, whatever you wanna call it, man

We got a lot to deal with, family members we gotta always look out for

Baby mama nagging, you know what I'm saying? Kids need this

And then again, the public need that, we gotta make hot music

'Cause if it ain't hot, it don't mean shit

But you know, it's all in a day's work

What a job this is

What a job this is, my ****

What's crack-a-lacking, Devin, the Dizzude?

Snoop D-O-dub, J Prince, Jazz Prince

Yeah, Rap-A-Lot, still on top, 2007

What a job this is