[Intro: Dom Kennedy]
If it don't make money, it don't make sense

[Verse 1: Skeme]
Look, if you don't know a thing about me know that homie rep
Another n***a cold as me, that shit just don't exist
No experience in acting, but stick to the script
See bitch, my presence be a present, I just got the gift
And don't attach my name to it if it ain't legit
Won't even waste no game on her if she ain't gone strip
Young n***a on a mission, only plot be this
I can melt this Cuban link and make a pot to piss
Westside on mine, I keep them check signs online
Ain't no handouts, that been ran out, so n***a best be on yo' grind
Never struggle with it, never love this business, I don't cuddle with it
If that plan ain't work, it's automatic, back to huddle with it
That ain't fully loaded, ain't no levels, I ain't fucking with it
Tuck and grip, any n***a tripping tell him come and get it
I'm from the land where all the skinny n***as ride
Where we ain't never been touched even though plenty n***as tried

[Chorus: Dom Kennedy]
If it don't make money, it don't make sense

[Verse 2: Dom Kennedy]
If you don't know a thing about me, know I'm taking risks
Started recording in '06 now it's making sense
Why my cousin used to tell me just keep making hits
And now he locked behind the fence and I'm just making chips
I know most you n***as out here is fake as shit
And everybody paid bitch, so you ain't exempt
You n***as still be buying J's before you pay your rent
Meanwhile, I'm out of town with this [?]
In the Biggie Smalls hat with the Kangol hat
I pulled $100,000 out and told him hate on this
How we always be with Nip' but he ain't no crip
I'm just a Westside n***a, so I don't take no shit
Like the fruit of Islam, n***a this ain't no clique
Don't try to salt a n***a name because it ain't gone stick
You trying to wear a n***a Vans, but they just ain't gone fit
So I went and talked to Quik and he told me this:
[Chorus: Dom Kennedy]
If it don't make money, it don't make sense