Intro:

Let um feel the beat first

I'm bout to come through your stereo

Should my rhyme start with the hook

Start with the hook





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 now you act so berserk

Thank God it's Friday

What's the track, what's the track girl?

She don't wanna, she don't wanna work on Monday

(I wanna thank my hood)



Verse 1:

For makin me a star before I had fast cars

And couldn't tell the difference between 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 restaurant

For minimum wage

Dreamin I'm on stage

At 17 I left the house

Cause my father was a minister

And I didn't want the Marvin route

What's goin on?

Today to sell a song you need a video with soft porn

MC's in the industry

You wanna tip?

Don't let them pimp you like Goldy

And tell Sony they better have my money

Cause I play wit the Comodores and be 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 cuttin here in the shops

Thank God it's Friday

To the thugs sweatin up in the chop shops

Yo, it's Friday

To my people that don't got no job

Everyday it's Friday

What's the track, what's the track yo?

She don't wanna, she don't wanna work on Monday

All the Ladies sing



Ladies:

I don't feel

Like cookin you no breakfast

This mornin

(Wyclef: All my hoodlums say)



Guys:

You don't have

To cook me breakfast

Cause your girlfriend will

After you leave

(I wanna thank my hood)



Verse 2:



For the love of money

I know kids who'll slit your throat

Friday the 13th

Jason wit a trench coat

But you can't scare Suzie

Cause her man got so many uzi's you'd think he was Cadivi

Meanwhile, she's getting her nails done

Crystal clear so they could shine like wit 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 sleepin

You want to be clubbin then you better pack your heat in

And to my man G Swar Rest in Piece

I still poor liquor

1 draw on the cocoa leaf

Inhale, exhale smoke grasses

Polices in the area, but ain't no need to panic

You wit Wyclef you getting in

If not, then 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 track, what's the track girl?

She don't wanna she don't wanna work on Monday

Yo, to my people cuttin here in the shops

Thank God it's Friday

To the thugs sweatin up in the chop shops

Yo, it's Friday

To my people who don't got no job

Everyday it's Firday

What's the track, what's the track yo?

She don't wanna she don't wanna work on Monday

All the Ladies sing



Ladies:

I don't feel

Like cookin you no breakfast

This mornin

(Wyclef: All my hoodlums say)



Guys:

You don't have

To cook me brEakfast

Cause your girlfriend will

After you leave



Guitar Solo



(Daddy, play that guitar)