Wyclef Jean / Low Income
Various
Popularity · Low
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Lyrics
Let them feel the beat first
About to come through your stereo
Should I rhyme or start with the hook?
Start with the hook, go ahead
To my people who don't wanna go to work
Thank God it's Friday
Cover me, she 'bout to put up her skirt
Thank God it's Friday
Do your mom know you act so berserk?
Thank God it's Friday
What's the drag? What's the drag, girl?
She don't wanna, she don't wanna work on Monday
(I wanna thank my hood)
For making me a star before I had fast cars
And couldn't tell the difference from Whoppers and caviar
Before the fame, way before things changed
All I wanted to do was freestyle and get a name
I used to work at the fast food restaurants
For minimum wage, dreaming I'm on stage
At seventeen, I left the house 'cause my father was a minister
And I didn't want the Marvin route
What's going on?
Today, to sell a song, you need a video with soft porn
MCs in the industry, you want a tip?
Don't let them pimp you like Goldie
And tell Sony they better have my money
'Cause I play with the Commodores and leave like Lionel Richie
Low income, I stay so hungry
That if 50 Cent came to rob me, he'd be part of my charity
(I wanna thank my hood)
To my people cutting hair in the shops
Thank God it's Friday
To the thugs sweating up in the chop shop
Yo, it's Friday
To my people that don't got no job every day
It's Friday
What's the drag? What's the drag, yo?
She don't wanna, she don't wanna work on Monday
All the ladies sing
I don't feel like cooking you no breakfast this morning
All my hoodlums sing
Well, you don't have to cook me breakfast
'Cause your girlfriend will after you leave (I wanna thank my hood)
For the love of money, I know kids that'll slit your throats
Friday the 13th, Jason with a trench coat
But you can't scare Suzie 'cause her man got so many Uzis
You'd think he was Gaddafi
Meanwhile, she's getting her nails done
Crystal clear so it can shine with the diamonds
It's such a shame what happened last week, man
They found her under the sheets with a letter from the Son of Sam
It said to tell New York I ain't sleeping
You gonna be clubbing, you better pack your eating
And to my man G Swar, rest in peace
I still pour liquor, one draw of the cocoa leaf
Inhale, exhale, smoke vanish
Police is in the area, but ain't no need to panic
You with Wyclef, you getting in
If not, we gonna make CNN
(I wanna thank my hood)
To my people who don't wanna go to work
Thank God it's Friday
Cover me, she 'bout to put up her skirt
Thank God it's Friday
Do your mom know you act so berserk?
Thank God it's Friday
What's the drag? What's the drag, girl?
She don't wanna, she don't wanna work on Monday
To my people cutting hair in the shops
Thank God it's Friday
To the thugs sweating up in the chop shop
Yo, it's Friday
To my people that don't got no job every day
It's Friday
What's the drag? What's the drag, yo?
She don't wanna, she don't wanna work on Monday
All the ladies sing
I don't feel like cooking you no breakfast this morning
All my hoodlums sing
Well, you don't have to cook me breakfast
'Cause your girlfriend will after you leave
Daddy, play that guitar