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Well, I was counting my tips at the Playing Sixes In this [Incomprehensible] When this old beach bum yelled out "Come on, play, give me three steps" I was beat but I played him one more Then I was headed out towards the door And he handshake and handed me a hundred dollar bills And said, "By the way, I own this bar" Then he winked at me and said, "Kid, I got a few more tips But they sure ain't the kind that would fit in that jar" You gotta treat people right on your ride up They'll have your back on the way back down He said, "Take it from this old beach bum, son Keeping it real is what it's really about" You can count your blessings, count yourself lucky But every day you get above ground Oh, that ain't about keeping count of what you got It's making what you got count He grabbed me by the arm and said He said, "Real quick, boy, let me tell you this story About this real rich dude I used to know real well He owned all kinds of stuff but when he added it all up Letras de cancionesHe still felt like he was empty as hell" He said, "Son, would you believe that That dude was me back before I inventoried my life Ah, just to live down here, selling shots and some beer And, and dispensing some free advice" Now treat people right on your ride up They'll have your back on the way back down He said, "Take it from this old beach bum, son Keeping it real, that's what it's really about" Count your blessings, count yourself lucky Every day you get above ground 'Cause it ain't about keeping count of what you got It's making what you got count Oh, now I can't recollect how much I collected in my jar [Incomprehensible] And tonight I started getting to have a beer with my old friends And when he saw those tour buses outside, he said Now are your treating people right on your ride up? They'll have your back on the way back down He said, "Take it from this old beach bum, son Yeah, keep it real, that's what it's really about" And the best things in life, you can't put a price on They don't come with no dollar or map, no 'Cause it ain't about keeping count of what you got It's making what you got count No, it ain't about keeping count of what you got No, it all comes down to making what you got count Make it count, that's what it comes down to, son Tell your friends and be a friend Count your blessings, don't count your problems From Letras Mania