Money Is My Medicine Lyrics - Diamond In The Ruff - Freeway

[Featuring: Mr. Porter, Omillio Sparks] 

[Intro - Omillio Sparks - talking (Freeway)] 

(I need some fuckin money, man) 

I feel you Free 

Goin through this recession and shit 

Now them hoes actin up 

Bills keep comin in, shit, focus 

[Verse 1 - Freeway] 

I used to get money from slingin the dope 

But since they cracked down on that dope slingin, I'm broke 

And I used to get money from slingin the crack 

But since they cracked down on that crack slingin, I'm cracked 

I used to get it there, expert at bringin 'em back 

But now it ain't no packages to get there 

Prior to that I was fillin apps 

A few years before that was in the Barbershop sweepin hair 

Little Barbershop sweeper kid, cop a hustle 

Was sellin incense and oils to all the people there 

Sixth, seventh and eighth grade I kept a couple 

Dollars for work and fresh sneakers, I was hurtin 'em 

Yep, now it's a recession and I'm stressin 

I need it for lesser, I'm not tryin to be a working man 

I'm sure not tryin to do carpentry like my pops 

Big pain in the bottom of his back and it be hurtin him, damn! 

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[Chorus - Mr. Porter] 

Ohhh, I close my eyes and all I can see is that money (money, money) 

Money (money, money) 

A list of things that my people need but first is money (money, money) 

Money (money, money) 

It ain't like I found a pot of gold (no) 

This ain't a dream, this is reality homes 

That's why my main focus is on that money (focus on the money) 

Money (money, money) 

[Verse 2 - Omillio Sparks] 

Just broke a new broad, she wants the fancy car 

A nigga stacked up a yard, she tryin to spend it all 

I'm out slingin the hard and don't respect the law 

Bent a few wrong corners and that, of course, involved 

From C-A to D-A, they tryin to take it all 

I think I need a vacation, reach out through calling cards 

Or make the mind frame vicious and start a Holocaust 

I figure man, what's the difference? That shit'll all a cost 

Fuck it, let a nigga ball 

Money, money, money 

Money is my bitch, ho breed envy, I keep pourin Henny 

Screamin "fuck 'em!", that's the nigga in me 

Y'all ain't come from the trap or trenches with me 

When cops knocked and locked me 

Guns plural, serve riches to El Toros 

From the projects, suburbs to the Borough 

Runnin through your small town 

Spit Philly game and lock it down 

Focus and only here for one purpose, that is 

Photos 

[Chorus] 

[Verse 3 - Freeway] 

Philly Free on his grind, I need my paper straight 

So I'm creatin these rhymes without a paper mate 

That got me bustin these lines, they got me rackin my mind 

They got me standin in line behind my label mates 

No, I'm not Jay but I am on the way 

And I am not Kanye but I can produce +Heartbreaks & 808s+ 

And reduce the studio costs 

'Cause I'm recording in the hood, I'm not lampin in the Mandalay 

I'm makin hits, I need the same attention they get 

Them niggaz throw a temper tantrum, you don't hand 'em pay 

Record labels tryin to jerk me like a hand job 

If they don't hand me mine, I know how to handle this 

Leave somebody slumped, Riot Pump pistol grip 

But fuck sittin in prison wastin my plans away 

I guess I gotta find another way to make the pay 

Let me know if you can find a way to make the chips 

[Chorus]