Lyrics:
know this money can't get my niggas out the casket
I made a million dollars, still ain't happy
Say she got her tubes tied, bitch, you tryna trap me
got ocean eyes
I'm pushing 30
And feel deprived
Cause I know that my niggas ain't have to die
And I'm far from finished
I am fueled by the power of all
got a call from Mama
Auntie passed, it's raining
Send my cousin my love I'm outside praying
Raw papers blazing
Humbly patient this what I live by
the Dude
On the way to the telly, we was bumpin' R. Kelly
And right before I cut her, it was confessions from Usher
She ain't used to a thug, she love
the odds that are stacking
He filling the voids when i'm lacking
That manna from Heaven, i'm Snacking
Full meal i'm feasting, i switch modes I'm beasting
cocked back, but he spit about one time
Slumped out, sun down, and his man coming by
With like two more trucks and they creep from behind
Threw it in
This is your album, so that means you definitely got to get funky, so run it
[The D.O.C.]
Swinging, singing a brand new rap
On a rhythm concocted by
again
I got fuck all left and give everything
And get nothing back, because love is wack
So attacking them is my best defence
I aint ashamed to admit it
I
whack
Straight about a Brooklyn and they
Saying New York back
The streets know a problem
Just responsible for that
Fuck what you ball from the avenue
around a real nigga
All they do is still niggas ideas
And rhythm with 'em
Holla something similar
Talking bout the hood
Like they hung in 'em
I got
Uh look
I got Prada on my eyes
I smell like YSL
Aye Noah what up man
From the cross roads to the high roads
Let's get it
Tell these MF's they doomed
Knowing everything from there on must be right
Just a notion
But somehow I know I'm not wrong
If it's our destiny
There's nothing we can do
Yea I bite my tongue for no one man you ain't heard bout me
You should've knew it was him by the way that I talk and the men I keep
Makin a name
to the bro, We smokin gas this ain’t no lows
Man I be shining can’t deny it I got the drip from head to toe
Don’t Cross the line or waste my time ain’t talkin
withdrawals all week bitch,
I ain’t got nothin for no leech bitch, -I get mine by any means, necessary, Always on the front line, but the profit margin varies,
makes me jump
Got black to asian, and caucasian sayin'
That's the joint, that's the jam'
Let your body collide to the rhythm provided by the
Black
ain't talking smith
They all got phones
Man I don't go on dates
Fame is a drug
He used you For bait
Taking care all my sons like Nate
I'm balling harder
the mood as the funky music slams
I know you got the rhythm, cause it runs in the fam
I gotta speak my piece, cause this ain't "Silence Of the Lambs"
I'm
tapping yo angles (Oh no)
He don't know the real you
So Fuck yo BBL
And you can't take that Chanel to heaven
Saks Fifth Avenue ain't gon save you from
up you and hitting ya mans
If you niggas try to come for my bands
You ain't got no tool so you better scram
If I don't know don't wanna dap up ya hand
got wise by hard livin'
I sleep all day, smoke haze, manage` women
I spit these hard rhythms, it feel like a car hit 'em
So leave that boy alone, can't
to tell ya
But short and sweet
Don't wanna diss you but your girl's a freak
I saw your girl yeah man
I seen her man walking down the avenue
His girl, ain't
out
Floor seats at the Heat game
Her bag twenty grand, nigga, peep game
South beach making love on the rooftop
Fucking to the rhythm, got her
gon' ride on 'em, nigga we gon' slide on 'em
Leeky in the backseat and he got that big four five on him
Stop all that flexin', nigga know he ain't
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