Grateful Songtext
Three for the money, two for the hustle and one for the
Night time spread over the city like a comforter
Prime time for the predators who come to hunt for the chumps
Carryin' them high notes like a trumpeter
They shoot as straight as arrows and run through the shadows
As sons of a gun or dirty young caballeros
With marks on they collars where they hung from the gallows
Their lust for the dollars keep 'em red like the tarots
Makin' fiends, influencin' people, Dale Carnegies
With big dreams to get rich quick that fail horribly
Night time spread over the city like a comforter
Prime time for the predators who come to hunt for the chumps
Carryin' them high notes like a trumpeter
They shoot as straight as arrows and run through the shadows
As sons of a gun or dirty young caballeros
With marks on they collars where they hung from the gallows
Their lust for the dollars keep 'em red like the tarots
Makin' fiends, influencin' people, Dale Carnegies
With big dreams to get rich quick that fail horribly
Now they play the avenue of Amsterdam
With other pickpockets and thieves and gambling mans
And they just come at all the noodles where resistance is futile
Business as usual to blow out your wig like French Poodles
Never-endin' pursuit of the American dream
Winner takes everything is still a regular theme, listen
Ayo, one for the will of man, two for the kilogram
Three for the cold killer who can still be a millionaire
Fillin' the Frigidaire, big plates and silverware
Where everybody eat except the one who was ill-prepared
Due to circumstances, there's no more chances
We was raised by wolves, grizzly bears, and panthers
It's wild, yo, I'm surprised we ain't grown no antlers
The whole house is fucked like Jo Jo Dancers
It's hopeless to drift into a deep psychosis
Do the most for just another bleak prognosis
Out of respect for the dead, the names is changed
When whoopie pie lit in his wig, his aim was flames
If one thing them young boys not playin' his games Now that'll teach an old-timer how to stay in his lane
I guess the moral of the story is
Any sip you pour me is a toast to the warriors
Who bit the dust before me, kid
Be grateful
With other pickpockets and thieves and gambling mans
And they just come at all the noodles where resistance is futile
Business as usual to blow out your wig like French Poodles
Never-endin' pursuit of the American dream
Winner takes everything is still a regular theme, listen
Ayo, one for the will of man, two for the kilogram
Three for the cold killer who can still be a millionaire
Fillin' the Frigidaire, big plates and silverware
Where everybody eat except the one who was ill-prepared
Due to circumstances, there's no more chances
We was raised by wolves, grizzly bears, and panthers
It's wild, yo, I'm surprised we ain't grown no antlers
The whole house is fucked like Jo Jo Dancers
It's hopeless to drift into a deep psychosis
Do the most for just another bleak prognosis
Out of respect for the dead, the names is changed
When whoopie pie lit in his wig, his aim was flames
If one thing them young boys not playin' his games Now that'll teach an old-timer how to stay in his lane
I guess the moral of the story is
Any sip you pour me is a toast to the warriors
Who bit the dust before me, kid
Be grateful
