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Paper Stack (Feat. Smokey)(Cut)
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Trace "Paper Stack" (Feat. Smokey) was cut from The Last Withdrawal. I just didn't feel the track was worth putting on the album, and I personally wasn't fond of my verses really.
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Artist picture
The Soundclick of Trace (now known as Ben Grim at TheBenGrim.com)
All new music will be performed under the name Ben Grim (Soundclick.com/theBenGrim)
Song Info
Peak in subgenre #569
Author
Trace
Rights
Last Mile Publishing
Uploaded
September 16, 2009
Track Files
MP3
MP3 5.4 MB 192 kbps 3:58
Story behind the song
Beat provided by S-Original
Lyrics
[Chorus] and you would to when your pockets flat, tryna bumb a meal you aint got the cash, {I Grind To Make My Paper Stack} don't wanna go through that so I [Verse 1] Placed in the game, Raise from the flame, satan has came, chasing the ch-ch-change til you makin' it rain, rain Sane... or am I? Semi, like an automatic, not truck, now back up you hear the beep, clear the street or feel the static of touch, stuck in my position you would go with intuition, and make the decision to hustle til your stones'll glisten, missin' that pocket change, winters cold with nothin' in it, so somethin's gotta give in, and I'm waitin' any minute, cynical, wanna be at my pinnacle like ball cards, but broke got me shooting at All Stars ((All Stars)) so take that how you want, put some green in the blunt, and while you wish it's babies it's just semen to some, the ones who whore themselves out for the paper stack, meanwhile tryna keep it clean like a Baker's back, but you know, that dough, will dirty you in the process, so broad find a different job & grind with a bra'd chest yes, you and I... [Chorus] and you would to when your pockets flat, tryna bumb a meal you aint got the cash, {I Grind To Make My Paper Stack} don't wanna go through that so I [Verse 2] No Money is Humbling, some-thing tells me in my mind I gotta out-shine like a sun ring, punching... bags are only good for some stress, I'm tired of lickin' shots, gotta let the tongue rest, broke boy out on the street sellin' dried parsley, came across a hard fiend that killed em for his Barkleys, it's like puttin' too much arm and hammer in coke, no matter the cost, stop, you can't slander the dope, 'cause people who broke or even piss poor, aint got a f*** in' thing to live for but the next score, forced to give up on life, that's why my grind aint drugs, the average man, blistered hands, 9 to 5's and such, f*** , you if you don't respect that... I can't wait to see your face when I'm paid and the check's cashed, see how far I can stretch that, it's limo dough, and I can tell you didn't expect that, it's a Kimbo Blow, know [Chorus] and you would to when your pockets flat, tryna bumb a meal you aint got the cash, {I Grind To Make My Paper Stack} don't wanna go through that so I [Verse 3][Smokey]
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