(Verse One - RZA) Like Tony Starks man we throw your ass in the Cobra Clutch Your man watch as your whole head opens up Sober up, niggy, it's the Bob Digi We throw darts in the air that float like a frisbee
My neck is frostbitten ... Love my wares but y'all thug niggas miss me I'm bionic, I'm chronic ... the Digi-juice My fist fast as bruce you better call the jukes No excuse the black man must stand up Time to make the Wu sign throw both of y'all hands up You see me in a Maserati GranTurismo Up in the club my beat got more sub than Quizno's Mama that's the business I'mma a get this Give me ten digits Fuck that before I quit this Walk in the prints of a prince If it don't make it dollas, nigga, then it don't make sense
(Chorus - Dan Auerbach) If it don't make dollas, then it don't make sense If it don't make dollas, then it don't make sense No, no, it don't make sense
(Verse Two - Pharoahe Monch) I see dead people when I spit with my sixth sense My sixteens are sick sentences that make sense Which means they inflict pain that's intense I got brains backstage I been rhymin' sick since Sing a song of sixpence Pockets full of rye... 'til I die ... to the sky My shades is black my boots is Frye Rock 'n' roll I lose control Fuck the white ones, The Black Keys got so much soul While you come off of the bench If it don't make dollas then it don't make sense
If it don't make dollas then it don't make sense If it don't make dollas then it don't make sense Dog, It needs to make sense If it don't make dollas then it don't make sense
(Chorus - Dan Auerbach) If it don't make dollas then it don't make sense If it don't make dollas then it don't make sense No, no, it don't make sense If it don't make dollas then it don't make sense If it don't make dollas no it don' t make no sense