Lyrics:
Gold cufflinks fuck cuffs on wrists
Gold cufflinks fuck cuffs on wrists
Gold cufflinks fuck cuffs on wrists
Gold cufflinks fuck cuffs on wrists
always worried that I won't sell dope
I was taking them trips out there i was rocking my gold in Rome
Jeweler blessed my neck my ice got different VV
Drop the belly chopped the ceiling block 450 cops can't catch me
I... got my eyes on the black Range wit the fat frame
Cause its everythang my classic
by like "there he go"
I fit the description,
Black Tee an dickies, big glock wit me,
Real Dade County Nigga!
It's that little chico Pitbull,
bullshittin'
Dope - like a pound or a key
So shut de fuck up and listen to me
I make these killings
I got money to the ceiling [why's that?]
Cuz I'm
She can tell by the car, double R on the plate
Rolls Royce over those Black Market bumping in the Wraith
Rich nigga with poor taste, starve while
a rhyme with Mason and they all go wild
Styled out in black&gold cause PGH my local
We on the other level
Gas pedal to the redline
I don't care about y'all
dope cocks can't cope and stricken chickens all molt
Like him, he's gone
Tried to spin a CD-ROM
Ended up stuck dead in the world wide web of Shelob
But
the quickness
What's the business
Fnesse is the key to win this
I love the color of the sky, infinite black
I love the color of the sky, infinite black
It gives
they'd start a war
to exploit some brother's mother
Then there's the pyramid, that stands by itself
created by Black people's knowledge and wealth
and over
don't interrupt
Middle finga up on the ceiling
Somebody gon eff you up
Don't let the black tux fool ya cuz I am not the one
I come out the suit like
It's this 1 thing that caught me slippin
It's this 1 thing that caught me slippin
He still know what it's like
The hunt hasn't yet passed him by
to fend and get it for myself nigga
I'm tryna get CD displayed on a shelf nigga
We be slaving
Reason why them diamonds make a dance
Doing numbers like
in the CD
Making records I was only 14
Black flaggin I was running with Gs
Thank G-d Fay brought me John Reid
Cuz I was going down
But I'm growing
unstainable
I chew rocks
Slipe wit type digital soup deflect bullets
Black hooded surrounded by forty acres of wooded
Land, like my cousin dusty dirty
that could cost you your grave man
Triple gold ones the mark of a dead man
So why you slanging the keys, drinking the g's watch your g's
Cause in my
hittin gates, shit is dirty, plenty tight
leapin tall buildings in a single bounce feelin ceiling lights
hear me this if I go I better go in style
Keep it soupy with my groupies, peep the dookie gold rope
I'm turning 'to a logo
Keep it polished, making commas, stay tight with my bro-bros
Raking
for my burial
Now when you visit this loner for his funeral
Bring mixtapes, old CDs of Shakur and Hov
He don't need your company, he need a record
Boutta hang them niggas tryna lynch me
This ain’t hang man nigga where’s the racial equality?
But I’m mad at my brothers that just don’t understand the key
of condemn
I'm this jungle we call the town in the city of sin
Where niggahs start packing 9's by the time they run 10
And by the time they 18 they locked up
Balance sheet too whack
Non blacks on crack but blacks still can't crack the fact that we're last
Gotta pull it together
By the time that it rains
We ain't
little white rose
It could still turn black
No friends, no ceilings, no ends
Cover eyes with both hands
Bury face in my palm
Spirit broken put my pain in
at the dock of the bay
Wating for the snow to roll in, split end
It's Kokane a k
A the black hopper
Surrounded by the black teamsters
With triple beamers
Cause
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