Текст песни All.(Ya).Got - Five & DJ.Fresh

Needle at ninety
Tank nearly on empty
If I can't finish this run
Somebody better come and get me
I can't pass up a penny
Whether its shiny or sticky
Because these bills are like bad stories
We all have plenty
Some of these margins get thin
And logistics get tricky
Some roads are dead ends
But some will lead out of the city
So my back is to the wind
No leap is too risky
Because my chances been slim
And my alibi looking flimsy
You goddamn skippy
I be gritting with a purpose
The journey feels like home
My destination is uncertain
I been sprinting towards the skirmish
Begging them to pull my curtains
Really rap pay peanuts
I consider this a service
My actions are priceless
But my words are never worthless
Ain't achieved much yet
But what I've got I've earned it
Believe me I heard them
Down there telling me to stop
But it was hard to make it out
While we was grooving at the top
Speak up, bitch

(Give it all you got)

Let's keep it pushing pal
This ain't the place for conversation
I don't even like it here
And frankly that's an understatement
No negotiations
I ain't tripping off your situation
Truth be told this back and forth
Be wearing down my fucking patience
Them the stipulations
And the prices
You don't like them
Shop around
This where we live
Don't be out here talking loud
Excuse my hypervigilance
I'm checking our surroundings
Any night could bring trouble
You know it rarely makes announcements
I've never fought a war
That didn't find me first
And never walked into battle Without expecting to get hurt
I was never good with numbers
And your politics annoy me
I hate taking orders
So I'm not a good employee
They call it path dependence
I just say the game is rigged
I'd be half as pessimistic
If they didn't shake the bridge
To the other side of life
Where its safe to raise a kid
Now I ain't looking for a fight
But can't afford to take a hit
Just pay me

(Give it all you got)

Mama birthed no buster
The turf raised no quitter
This poverty creates hustlers
But that game makes hitters
So many play the numbers
But have the nerve to hate the winners
Return fire or take cover
Fall on your blade or surrender
A thousand ways to deliver
And a million to stall
Late nights and hot tempers
Ain't no chilling involved
They push lines, pull triggers
For problems worth killing to solve
Cheap dope and hard liquor
Keep them spilling the salt
You must be willing to fall
If you commit to living fast
Get familiar with those walls
Or just go run a different track
No detail is too small
You must have cents to get to stacks
And I can't build it up tall
Letting time slip through the cracks
Been rolling NASCAR gas
Louder than my exhaust
See no future like The Jacka
Let this Bone Thugs knock
While I ride with a cabbage patch
Little white girl in the glove box
If the rollers find the strap
I'll play pretend like a card board robot

(Give it all you got)