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Stick Me for My Riches Lyrics

from The 8 Diagrams

"Stick Me for My Riches" is track #11 on the album The 8 Diagrams. It was written by Diggs, Robert F. / Grice, Gary E. / Hunter, Jason / Smith, Clifford / Bean, Ronald Maurice.
"Stick Me for My Riches" is track #11 on the album The 8 Diagrams. It was written by Diggs, Robert F. / Grice, Gary E. / Hunter, Jason / Smith, Clifford / Bean, Ronald Maurice.

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Ooh, wee, mmm, yeah

See, I was raised out on these mean streets
I'm from the projects, right, where poverty and hell meet
I'm searching everyday to find a better way, I've got a
Hustle still to get my pay before I hit bottom

Now some might say that I'm already there but who are
They to judge or question what I do? Son, so I don't care
Tired of eating cheese sandwiches with no meat
Tired of watching all the playas from the same seat

So it's a life of crime, some might sing or rhyme
To escape the ghetto before the flatline
Choices to make, what am I gonna do?
Got to use my talents, they gonna pull me through

Now with success, I become a target, they wanna set me up
I guess, more money equals more problems
They wanna get me, wanna hit me, strip me of my riches
They wanna cut me up in pieces, leave me deep in ditches

And I can't take it but I'm gonna make it
Yeah, oh, I'm gonna make it
Yeah, ohh, fight to stay alive

I was raised out on these mean streets
You know where poverty and hell meet
Brothers get jail and life's for sale, cheap
Since momma held me in her arms to tell me

That it's a cold world, I done held heat
And held myself down, lotta bodies and shells found
And niggas into taking everything, that ain't nailed down
We fell down, ain't hard to tell now

I ain't trying to see the cell now
Or see momma put her house up for bail now
So I'm a give all I got, to try and get that gwop
Nigga, I'm hot with this hustle

Go 'head and get the cops
I use my talent to get more figures
Unlike these little corner store niggas
Go change your drawers, niggas

Now with success and I've become a target
They wanna set me up, take me hostage
Or take me down some notches
They wanna hit me, wanna stick me, get me for my riches
They wanna diss me, want a clip me, leave me stiff in ditches

And I can't take it, no, no but I'm gonna make it.
(This ain't no game, my life ain't nothing to play with)
Yeah, I'm gonna make it, ooh
(Face it, money is power and I'm a make it)
I'm gonna make it, ooh

Yeah, I'm gon' survive, yo, yo, aiyo
N.Y. City, gritty blocks, little love, plenty cops
Few rise, many drop, True Lies, semis cocked
Fish scale, already rocked, heavy shots, that we drop
New guys on every block, blue eyes and red dots

Pregnant mothers, broke fathers, more money, more problems
So hungry, won't starve 'em, work hard and so pardon
I got mouths to feed, I got pounds of weed
I need some more, another store, another house, indeed
An X amount of G, the reason pounds'll squeeze

And strip you naked, basic, trying to make it out the P's
Don't ever doubt a G, and have me spaz like
Face with the K and my nose all powdery
It ain't about the streets, it's 'bout the beast within
That won't give in to 'lice, down to bleed, G

Now with success and I've become a target
They wanna set me up, take me hostage
Or take me down some notches
They wanna hit me, wanna stick me, get me for my riches
They wanna diss me, wanna clip me leave me stiff in ditches

And I can't take it
(Yeah)
No, no, but I'm gonna make it
(Yeah, yeah, turn the beat up a little right here)
Yeah, I'm gonna make it, ooh
(Yo, yo, yo, yeah, yo, just, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang)

Aiyo, RZA, Meth, GZA, Deck, Ghost and Chef be cashing checks
Killa, Cap be snapping necks, Street and 'Zilla flash the tech
Sacrifice a savage life if he trying to bag my ice
Tag a price on merchandise, tell me, is it worth yo' life?

No, it's a cold, cold, cold world
You can't be playing games with my life
I've gotta fight to survive, fight to stay alive

Aiyo, metal pipes ignite, sparking fire, light the darkness night
Trying to stick me for my riches, now y'all bitches taking flight
Major business, raise the digits, tried to strike me for my life
Slice and dice, men or mice, GZA tell 'em what it's like

Aiyo, money making, people flaking, Cash Rules, fuck the bacon
Earthquaking, head is aching, bank stop, dice shaking
Times are hard, sew a job, scheming niggaz wanna rob
Use a hoe to slob ya knob, hit you with unruly mobs

Stab you in the back and smile, watch you bleed for a while
Hating on the agile, steal ya name and bite ya style
Hold you for a ransom note, Goliath cutting David's throat
Grab yo' vest, abandon boat and leave you out at sea to float

Now with success and I've become a target
They wanna set me up
I guess, more money equals more problems
They wanna hit me, wanna stick me, get me for my riches
They wanna diss me, want clip me, leave me stiff in ditches

And I can't take it, no, no but I'm gonna make it
Yeah, oh, I'm gonna make it, ooh, yeah
It's a cold, cold, cold world
I got my hand on my gun, they got a brother on the run

Yeah, it's a cold, cold, cold world
You can't be playing games with my life
I've gotta fight to survive, fight to stay alive
This ain't a game, this is my life

Keep pushing me to the edge, I'm gonna push back
And you won't like that, it's guaranteed you won't like that
When ya laid down, laid flat

Songwriters
DIGGS, ROBERT F. / GRICE, GARY E. / HUNTER, JASON / SMITH, CLIFFORD / BEAN, RONALD MAURICE

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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