I make 'em nod like paedamin
|
See them live might dive off the mexamine
|
Ground drama, sound harder than crowd bonkers
|
I'm 'bout dollars, I touch down in your town, holla
|
IMS, gladiator, call him Russell Crowe
|
Son of pro, watch these lame niggas come and go
|
Blessed with the poison pen, murder was the case so I guess it's them boys again
|
Through your duce high, salute eyes, be the general, the last one to run
|
I will take all ten of you, I'm feeling myself BK whiling the belt
|
Rocking my shit, eyes on the real wealth
|
Me and Goldie tell 'em it's easy money
|
Now shorty wanna fuck, that's sleazy, honey
|
Fame call us, money, it change all us
|
Get it how you live it or sing the same chorus
|
The game taught us, nothing in the bank for us
|
W claim walrus, yeah, we tank for life
|
Was raised on the island of the misfits
|
The children of the corn snatch your green with the biscuits
|
It's what you might call food for thought
|
And what's the killer season if you don't include the shot
|
This cross will start a feud and leave your whole mood distraught
|
Used to feel safe until they unscrewed vault and
|
Took your common sense out your memory bank
|
Then dumped on you like missiles over enemy tanks
|
So homie, drop slow like you in front of five O
|
'Cause force go in the raw and your back is where the knives go
|
Ride the attic, hiding silver spoons
|
Being cut so deep, it's hard to heal the wounds
|
Those flashing don't blast, they still buffoons
|
Just blowing on hot air, they should fill balloons
|
Yo, I like them shorties that'll kill for goons
|
And start a hustle in an apron to cut wheels and tunes
|
I want leverage, ice cold beverage
|
Money I can't count, I blacked out standing on Mount Everest
|
Live lessons, the cover of essence
|
It's pure excellence parting right down my measurements
|
Politic the deficit, fingerprints, no evidence
|
Cocaine, caviar, hitting on receptionists
|
Hang with the specialists, go medalist
|
Presidential grant, eating stakes that's tenderous
|
Got my brand, catch me in Megan Fox' bed
|
Cash clock, Gucci, IPad, bag
|
It's all black, top Nikes, you fat lazies
|
Riches from rags, cash and diamond faces
|
Got promoted up, friends up in high places
|
Next move, my best move, chess move, the strategy
|
Closet full of guns, son, none'
|
Get off that bullshit, that hip hop faggotry
|
I'm highbred nigga worth five gravity
|
Clothes never raggedy, oil painting of me displayed up in gallery
|
Capture me, Wu Tang forever, immortality
|
High salary, blessing from a mother named Valery
|
And my two sons named Anthony
|
Racks from stacks, quickly I'm browsing
|
First class ticket to the moon only cost 50 000
|
Niggas be doubting, it's understood, I'm running with goons
|
One of a kind, imported goods, killer the hood
|
Consume me, Lord, the last time I checked got 50 points in your voice
|
Good Lord
|
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-----------------
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Mount Everest
|
U-God |