Thinkin of a master plan Cuz ain't nuthin but sweat inside my hand So I dig into my pocket, all my money is spent So I dig deeper but still comin up with lint So I start my mission- leave my residence Thinkin how could I get some dead presidents I need money, I used to be a stick-up kid So I think of all the devious things I did I used to roll up, this is a hold up, ain't nuthin funny Stop smiling, be still, don't nuthin move but the money But now I learned to earn cos I'm righteous I feel great! so maybe I might just Search for a 9 to 5, if I strive Then maybe I'll stay alive So I walk up the street whistlin this Feelin out of place cos, man, do I miss A pen and a paper, a stereo, a tape of Me and Eric B, and a nice big plate of Fish, which is my favorite dish But without no money it's still a wish Cos I don't like to dream about gettin paid So I dig into the books of the rhymes that I made To now test to see if I got pull Hit the studio, cos I'm paid in full