original text at mamqa.com/ulyricsnew/gangstagrass-nickle-and-dime-blues-181461
Well i went on down to the corner store
Just to get a little bottle of pills
Cause the man on the television told me
There's a cure for all my ills
Well i walked on up to the counter
And i told him what i had
He said "you ain't got no money
You can't afford to be feeling so bad"
Chorus
Oh, can you spare a nickel, brother
Can you spare a dime
Need a couple more dollars now
Just to get me on down the line
(r-son)
Hey there how you doing ask the folks
I tell them all the same thing old black & broke
And they think that's a joke but i ain't playing
100% truth to what i'm saying
Cuz my bones crack i'm so pro black
And i got so many bills and they ain't dough stacks
Pardon me kojak sucking on your lollipop
You think i can get dropped off at the trolley stop
I'm leaving my first gig heading to the next one
I'll sleep when i'm dead trying to get these checks son
Hit the studio in full rakim mode
Cuz my credit score is in permanent limbo
Speed up the tempo i got to get the paper
The garnish on my wages isn't adding any flavor
Keep the weed in dank amounts
I need folding green to fill my bank accounts
Well i went down to the bodega
Just to get a little mountain dew
When i opened up my wallet
There wasn't nothing but an iou
Well i told my situation, i asked him
"what do you got for me?"
He said "i got this knuckle sandwich
And i'll give it to you for free"
Chorus
(dolio the sleuth)
From red dirt out to red hook
I been rocking mics since before there was a “fedbook”
The left hook - the reason why your man got his head shook
From the pjs where if you slip, you get your bread took
Concrete floors made it chilly when the sun’s down
Somehow we all made it out from the run-down
Proper plan prevented being played for a dumb clown
Took the less-traveled road, standing out amongst crowds
Old head with the fire of a jit-
More heads, you can tell they’re a liar when they spit
Baldheads don’t want ‘plex with the lion and his kits
All’s said is really nothing if you ply’em with the fifth
I’m cooking cast iron in a pit
Your bread ain’t really thick if all you’re buying is a fit
I cut it up in sections, then i fry’em till it’s crisp
Season it a lil’ more than required for the fix
Well i could not pay my ticket
And i could not pay my bail
Well the judge couldn't pay me the time of day
And he throwed my ass in jail
Well they gave me a nickel and a dime
And they placed them upon my eyes
For it cost much more to keep me here
Than it did to let me die
Chorus 2x
