Rick Ross – I Still Pray Lyrics

Play this song

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Rick Ross was reportedly hospitalized early Friday morning
Sources close to Rick Ross tell **** that he’s been hooked up to a machine that’s taking over the function of his heart and lungs
He’s reported getting treatment in the cardiac unit, which is a strong sign that he could’ve suffered a heart attack that started as a respiratory problem early Thursday morning
He’s hooked up to an ECMO, which is a form of life support
This story is still developing
M’-M’-M’
M’-M’-M’
Extremely painful
That’s what I call this right here
Oh, yo (Maybach Music)

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
Wake up out a coma, frozen in the moment
You could have the biggest clique, but you gon’ die a loner
Tubes down my throat, rules that I broke
All these quotes that I wrote and never cared to vote
What good is all the wealth, shittin’ on yourself? (M’-M’-M’)
I’ll give you back the money just to get my health
All the rifles on the block be fully automatic (M’-M’-M’)
Kids dying in the projects while we living lavish
Welfare cheese and the pigeon P’s
I’ma skip the lobster tails, I want the chicken wings (M’-M’-M’)
I pray it come a day when everybody eat
Your president on Twitter while my people on the street
Half these niggas snakes, others wanna leech
Never cared what you make ’cause it’s in my reach
Every day I wake up and I pray for Black Bo
Damn, I miss my nigga, that’s what really matter most

[Chorus: Ball Greezy]
All the diamonds in the Rollie, yeah, we prayed for that
Big yard full of foreigns, yeah, we prayed for that
Move mama out the ghetto, yeah, we prayed for that
And all my niggas locked down, I hope you make it back
Know that we miss y’all, got ’em hatin’ that, yeah
We rich forever, got ’em hatin’ that, yeah
Ballin’ on ’em, got ’em hatin’ that, yeah
We them niggas and they hatin’ that (M’-M’-M’)

[Verse 2: YFN Lucci]
Uh, they know it ain’t nobody triller, yeah
Lonely at the top but I’m up here, yeah
Ain’t no feeling in this world better than this one, yeah
I might load some rounds before I let him kill me
Can’t let my family down, man, that shit’ll kill me
If I give you it all, what I’ma give my children?
Like a patdown, gotta feel me
Ain’t where I wanna be now, but I will be, yeah
Hustle hard, get the paper, never stop
Never quit, I’m on top, I’m on top of my shit
I can flaunt my shit, I went hard for this shit, yeah
Uh, you know (You know)
You know (You know)
That a change gon’ come (A change gon’ come)
The finer things gon’ come (Finer things gon’ come)

[Chorus: Ball Greezy]
All the diamonds in the Rollie, yeah, we prayed for that (M’-M’-M’)
Big yard full of foreigns, yeah, we prayed for that
Move mama out the ghetto, yeah, we prayed for that
And all my niggas locked down, I hope you make it back
Know that we miss y’all, got ’em hatin’ that, yeah
We rich forever, got ’em hatin’ that, yeah
Ballin’ on ’em, got ’em hatin’ that, yeah
We them niggas and they hatin’ that

[Verse 3: Ball Greezy]
My closest homie got me rollin’ with one in the head
I got the joke but disagreed on the shit that he said
What happened to the perfect picture? (M’-M’-M’)
That’s what you get for tryna work with niggas
If it’s fuck the other side, then that’s what it is
After every murder, celebrating off in LIV
How you jealous of a nigga’s swag?
When every bird I got fronted, I broke it in half? (M’-M’-M’)
Every Sunday on my phone, watching TD Jakes
Readin’ scriptures to my soul helped me see the snakes
Drop the top on the foreign when the feds out
Acting like FCI ain’t givin’ bids out
Just to think about my youngin, it just give me chills
Niggas jeopardize they weed just to drop a grill
Glorifyin’ snitch niggas who be cuttin’ deals
Let ’em go against the code for a dollar bill (M’-M’-M’)

[Chorus: Ball Greezy]
All the diamonds in the Rollie, yeah, we prayed for that
Big yard full of foreigns, yeah, we prayed for that
Move mama out the ghetto, yeah, we prayed for that
And all my niggas locked down, I hope you make it back
Know that we miss y’all, got ’em hatin’ that, yeah
We rich forever, got ’em hatin’ that, yeah
Ballin’ on ’em, got ’em hatin’ that, yeah
We them niggas and they hatin’ that

[Outro]
Maybach Music
Port of Miami 2
Yes, we are
Yes, we are, oh
Oh-woah
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, no

Lil Tracy – I got da juice i got da sauce Lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, damn I feel like Soulja Boy with all this juice, man
I feel like a damn rockstar with all this sauce nigga, you feel me
[Chorus]
I got the sauce, I got the juice, yeah
Aye, I got the sauce, I got the juice, yuh
Look, I got the sauce (juice), I got the juice (sauce), I got the sauce, I got the juice (juice)
[Verse]
You tryna’ fuck a bitch, I’m tryna’ get rich
Tryna’ upgrade my wrist
Tryna’ upgrade my wrist
Tryna’ upgrade my wrist
I stepped inside the room, niggas looking pissed
Smoking boof, smell like someone pissed
Why yo’ bitch acting like she need some dick, aye
Why yo’ bitch acting like she need some dick, aye
Yuh, she gon’ lick my bracelet, aye
Yuh, Shawty nasty doing tricks, aye (Ugh, aye)
Yuh, Now she telling her best friend, yeah
Aye, I’ma fuck her and her best friend, aye
[Chorus]
Got the sauce, I got the juice (juice), I got the sauce (sauce), I got the juice (juice), I got the sauce (juice), I got the juice (juice)
Yeah, I got the sauce (juice), I got the juice (sauce), I got the sauce (juice), I got the juice (sauce), I got the sauce (juice), I got the juice (juice)
[Verse]
I got the juice, I feel like OJ da juiceman
I’ma fuck a bitch I met off Instagram
Aye, niggas don’t like me wait til’ I get those bands, aye
Yuh, I’ma make my wrist match my rims, yuh
Look, I’ma make my wrist match my rims, yuh
Aye, I got the juice, I got the sauce, I got the juice, I got the sauce, I want a stomach like Rick Ross (stomach like Rick Ross, yuh)
I wanna floss like Mike Jones
Candy paint wrist same color bubblegum, aye, yuh
Yuh, got the sauce, got the juice, I got the sauce, I got the juice, bitch
[Outro]
Got the sauce, I got the juice, I got the sauce, I got the juice, I got the sauce, I got the juice, aye
Yuh, got the sauce, got the juice, got the sauce, got the juice, yuh, aye, yuh

CupcakKe – Squidward Nose Lyrics

[Chorus]
His dick smaller than my toes
Yeah, yes, smaller than my toes
His dick smaller than my toes
I’d rather ride Squidward nose

[Verse 1]
My eyelash flew off
When I saw that dick was too soft (What the fuck?)
Need a dick like Rick Ross
Or Dora the Explorer get lost
Get in my zone, I’m ass naked at home
He knowin’ just when I’m on
I post it up like Malone
Get so much neck, it’s wrong
That I should smell like cologne
Swallow this dick, it’s gone
He’s searching for it on Chrome

[Chorus]
His dick smaller than my toes
Yeah, yes, smaller than my toes
His dick smaller than my toes
I’d rather ride Squidward nose
His dick smaller than my toes
Yeah, yes, smaller than my toes
His dick smaller than my toes
I’d rather ride Squidward nose

[Verse 2]
This pussy have yo’ nigga leavin’ you hurt (Uh-huh)
Make him step out on you like phones ringin’ at church (He gone)
At The Drake Hotel so you know we on dirt
Call it “Views from The Six” when he lookin’ up my skirt (Uh)
Roses are red, violets are blue
All about the head like I’m in beauty school (Uh-huh)
I said roses are red, might turn your balls blue
‘Cause if it ain’t enough spit then my snot comin’ through
Sex occasion, nipples like raisins
I black out on that dick but my cum is caucasian
Told me to face it, went down like the basement
Don’t nut in my hole, I do not want your glazin’
Suckin’ on that dick made my lipstick slip off (Uh)
So can I wear your cum as clear lipgloss? (Uh)
Make you work that dick like I’m the big boss (Uh)
Call me Serena back and forth with his balls

[Chorus]
His dick smaller than my toes
Yeah, yes, smaller than my toes
His dick smaller than my toes
I’d rather ride Squidward nose
His dick smaller than my toes
Yeah, yes, smaller than my toes
His dick smaller than my toes
I’d rather ride Squidward nose

[Verse 3]
Wanna fuck another girl, nigga are you dumb? (Dummy)
I’m a Gemini so that’s really a threesome (Yeah)
Rubbin’ on your dick ’til my fingers numb
Big pussy, it don’t come with a cherry, I got a plum (Ooh)
Yeah, daddy, daddy, yeah I like it like that (I do)
I’m hittin’ more positions than Ray J hat
I’m ridin’ on your dick ’til your dick get a flat
I’m ’bout to lay your ass down like a fuckin’ door mat (Uh-huh)
Peanut butter jelly all in my belly-belly
Rated R, no Kelly
Ate his meat like a deli
Don’t moan, you can spare me
‘Cause your breath kinda smelly
Yeah, my pussy always screamin’ “it’s hot in here” like Nelly
Throw up on that dick then I lick it up
Poor kitty-kitty but I’m rich as fuck
Magician with the titties, told him pick a cup
I got that pothole pussy, yeah the dick was stuck

[Chorus]
His dick smaller than my toes
Yeah, yes, smaller than my toes
His dick smaller than my toes
I’d rather ride Squidward nose
His dick smaller than my toes
Yeah, yes, smaller than my toes
His dick smaller than my toes
I’d rather ride Squidward nose

Kanye West – 4th Dimension lyrics

[Intro: Louis Prima]
Down the chimney, he will come
With his great big smile
And you’ll find that even the kiddies
Are swingin’ in the latest style
Oh, oh, oh
What is Santa bringing?
Oh, oh, oh
I wonder whether he’ll be swingin’

[Verse 1: Kanye West]
It feels so good it should cost
Bought an alligator, I ain’t talkin’ Lacoste
Made me say, “ooh, uh”
Like I’m mixing Master P and Rick Ross (uh,uh)
She seem to make me always feel like a boss (uh,uh)
She said I’m in the wrong hole, I said I’m lost (uh,uh)
She said I’m going too fast, I’m exhausted
Now drop to your knees for the offerin’
This the theme song, oh something wrong
Might need a intervention for this new dimension
That’s too new to mention, offer it in a sentence
If I get locked up, I won’t finish the sent-

[Sample: Louis Prima]
Oh, oh, oh
What is Santa bringin’?
Oh, oh, oh
I wonder whether he’ll be swingin’

[Laughter]

[Verse 2: Kid Cudi]
Gettin’ loose while I’m on the deuce, see me roll up
What you surfin’ the coast, and I spend it, I got
Plenty of bitches for the evening, we could journey we off
For the light that got us home, we in the moment oh oh
Such a lost boy, caught up in the darkest I had
What’s the cost, boy? Losing everything that I had
She been on me boy, unless you got something to tell
Sittin’, waitin’ for me slippin’, yeah I’ll see you in hell
Tell the cougar get up off me, no my soul ain’t for sale
All the evils in the world I keep it on me for real
I really hope the Lord won’t hurt me, we all live in sin
Kids see ghost of the Rolls, Ric Flair on your bitch
Now this the theme song, this the theme song
The put the beams on, get your, get your dream on
But you don’t hear me though, drama: we let it go
Watch the guitars roll and let your friends know

[Sample: Louis Prima]
Oh, oh, oh
What is Santa bringin’?
Oh, oh, oh
I wonder whether he’ll be swingin’

[Outro: Shirley Ann Lee]
Just do that and then let the music do something, then do that again, that’d be enough for a record
I mean, you only want two and a half minutes if you can get it, you know, three minutes max—

MATT OX – Athlete lyrics

Chorus:
She wanna ride with me
She in love with me
I got a different side
That she doesn’t see
She keep on texting me
Think she obsessed with me
I’m balling like No Jumper
Looking like an athlete (swish)

She wanna ride with me
She in love with me
I got a different side
That she doesn’t see
She keep on texting me
Think she obsessed with me
I’m balling like No Jumper
Looking like an athlete

Verse 1:
Yeah I’m a hustling
Running up with them bands
I was in the trenches
Now I’m running up with gang
Y’all know I started from an ?
Getting to this guap (hold up)
I’m on a mission to the top
I’m getting that bank
Gucci on a bag
These haters be talking now I swear that they a drag
Swag on me leaking, dripping all this sauce
My homies started eating we looking like Rick Ross
A young boy running up with his gang
My age young but my mind ain’t the same
Swerving on these lames
They think I play games
Got that brand new lane
Life just ain’t the same

Chorus:
She wanna ride with me
She in love with me
I got a different side
That she doesn’t see
She keep on texting me
Think she obsessed with me
I’m balling like No Jumper
Looking like an athlete (swish)

She wanna ride with me
She in love with me
I got a different side
That she doesn’t see
She keep on texting me
Think she obsessed with me
I’m balling like No Jumper
Looking like an athlete

Fergie – Hungry lyrics

(feat. Rick Ross)

[Rick Ross:] This special, biggest, global
[Fergie:] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

To say it’s complicated, understatement of the year
Well maybe conflict made it a new flavor in your ear
They know that I’m a problem, that’s why everybody scared
Whatever doesn’t kill you, can make you an I’ll-ionaire
Uh, just turn the headphones up or make the windows roll up
I make they hands go up
When I show up and I blow it ’til I’m full up, wait, hold up
Girl up in the mirror, only one I fear, uh
You say you the realest, I told you I’m the illest

Sick, sick, mmm
Hungry, starving
Not thirsty, just hungry
Ambitious, still hungry
Still hungry

[Rick Ross:]
I’m moonwalking on marble floors
Rick Ross, I’m just drippin’ sauce
Bitches see me and they all just wave
Rolls Royce and we call this Wraith
I fuck up money like I’m Escobar
Ballin’, ballin’, Kobe Bryant, that boy living large
No room for medium, that means you thinkin’ small
Ferrari, Fergie, switching gears, she rockin’ with a boss
I close my eyes, I must be telepathic
Look over haters, tripling my assets
It takes courage to accomplish these things
Fergie’s my queen, I’m the king, now come kiss on our rings

[Fergie:]
Sick, sick, mmm
Hungry
[Rick Ross:] El Chapo
[Fergie:] Starving
[Rick Ross:] Rinzel
[Fergie:] Not thirsty, just hungry
[Rick Ross:] Ferrari Fergie
[Fergie:]
Ambitious, still hungry
Still hungry

Lil Pump – Boss lyrics

[Intro & Producertag]
Diablo murder
Ooh, yeah
Lil Pump!
Yeah

[Chorus]
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with a saw, yeah
Bitch, I flex, Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex, Rick Ross, yeah
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with a saw, ooh
Bitch, I flex, Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex, Rick Ross, yeah

[Post-Chorus]
Walk in the trap like a boss (ooh)
Walk in the trap like a boss (brr)
Walk in the trap like a boss (ooh)
Walk in the trap like a boss (trap)
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, (ooh)
Yeah, I came in with a saw, ooh
Bitch, I flex, Rick Ross, ooh
Bitch, I flex, Rick Ross, ooh

[Verse]
Walk in the trap, Ric Flair, ooh
Fuck a nigga bitch, don’t care, damn
Throwing up racks in the air, damn
Told that bitch “Lil Pump, yeah, ooh”, damn
I just broke my wrist
100 on my wrist, can’t tell me shit
Pop 4 Xans then I fucked a nigga’s bitch
Never went to school cause I was always flippin’ bricks, ayy
Yeah, I came up with the sauce, damn
Yeah, I sold crack in the halls, damn
Lil Pump, bands on top, damn
Gave my mom 2 Glocks, damn
Everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and it’s Fiji, ooh, damn
Everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and it’s Fiji, ooh

[Chorus]
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with a saw, yeah
Bitch, I flex, Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex, Rick Ross, yeah
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with a saw, ooh
Bitch, I flex, Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex, Rick Ross, yeah

Carnage – Gordo lyrics

(feat. Rick Ross & araabMUZIK)

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Biggest in the Game
Biggest at the dinner
Rozay and Carnage
Fat boys in the building
Fat boys at the Back

[Verse: Rick Ross]
Bounce in the buckles
Belly’s a bubble
But the way I’ma fuck you
She gon’ tell me I love you
These niggas keep testing
Just a new hole in the desert
I’m texting my reverend
Please recite Psalms twenty-seven
If you seen how I’m living
You would think I was a villain
Got my niggas deported guilty for making a killing
Keep your hands off the cage boy
I’m the one to put you on the front page boy
Don’t see none of these niggas
Rozay’s repertoire
Professions of a hustler
I pray I see tomorrow
Duffle bags heavy got me on this Ross fit
Never catch me slipping cause I keep my marksmen

DJ Mustard – Deep (feat. Rick Ross, Wiz Khalifa & TeeFLii) lyrics

[Hook: Teeflii]
Your crease is what I’m feelin’
And your style is what I’m diggin’
Girl let’s get personal and let me go
Deep, deep, deep
Deep, deep, deep
[?]
Deep, deep, deep
Deep, deep, deep

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I’m ridin’ slow like an old ****a
All gold like a dope dealer
I’m throwin’ cash like I go with her
Hold your head high, oh no ****a
Get cash like the old folks
Dodge potholes when you on spokes
Hold the. 45 smokin’ on dope
All white Chevy, what he on? Coke
Streets talk and they call it [?]
Whole hood know what you murdered by
Strip club poppin’ but it ain’t safe
****As tell and comin’ home on the same day

[Hook:]

[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]
Come kick it with a ****a who
Fly more than I drive, get it from the supplier
If I want it I buy it, that pussy fire, she stay the night
She ain’t even like smoke
Now she rolling up her own joints
Or, packin’ her G pen lil Bombay make the room start spinnin’
Even though a lot of ****as prolly in [?]
I’mma put you on somethin’, you ain’t heard it like this before
I’mma do it how you want it, jump on it, act like you rode a **** before

[Hook:]

[Verse 3: Teeflii]
Ain’t no I in no team
And no team in no I’s
Ain’t no reason to be acting shady
No lie, no lie, I [?]
No lie, no lie, give it up to my real ****as

[Hook:]

A$AP Rocky – Brand New Guy (feat. ScHoolboy Q) lyrics

[Verse 1: Asap Rocky]
I’m camo down to my boxers
Gold teeth, a bathing ape
It’s animals in my projects
Like monkeys, orangutans
Banana clip on that chopper
I hold heat, bangers bang
Let the chiquita speak
Let it keep the peace
That Lil B, bangkadang
I don’t care if you blue or you red flagging
Hair swinging, my pants sagging
Hoes all on my band wagon
Your bitch gagging, she jet lagging
All my cause niggas, what’s crackin’?
All my blood niggas, what’s poppin’?
I ain’t set tripping, I just happen
To know who click clacking, who mismatching
Fuck swagger, you been jacking
Fuck fly, I am fashion
Tryna cop that Benz wagon
My bitch drive it and my friends crash it
Niggas threat with the chit chattin’
See a nigga don’t shit happen
I’m finna blow on that Bin Laden
So talk money, check latin (Suck my fuckin’ dick bitch)

[Hook: x2]
Brand new clip, brand new 9
Brand new bitch, brand new ride
Brand new weed, brand new high
Brand new me meet the brand new guys

[Verse 2: Schoolboy Q]
That 45 be the big toy
Now which nigga want it with the fat boy?
Clipped up like I’m paranoid
Hot as hell nigga, Fitzroy
Pulled off through the city like {skirrt}
Seen that hoe nigga like {skirttt pop}
Hopped up on a nigga like {murrppp}
Put that pussy nigga in a purse
You wouldn’t be the first covering the dirt
Put him in the ground, he was down to earth
Napped up nigga, I been down since birth
Backpack full of random work
With two bad hoes, I’ll teach you how to jerk
Teach you how to jerk
Swaggin’ in my J’s
Pop me a pill and throw that pussy a rave
My prerogative ways
Nappy chin hairs with the brand new fade
Brand new nigga with the brand new venue
Sold that bitch out
Should’ve made that ho bigger
Killer charisma these cupcakes remember
My objective is to serve your agenda
Biggie and Nas put they ass in a blender
Sprinkle some 50 and came out this nigga
You quick with the gat and the dick in your mouth
Balls in my hands and your bitch in my house
Twisting up weed
I’m digging her out
Just filling her out
Do all that shit you be talking about
While you gone? Shit, NetFlix on your couch
What this pop corn about?
Microwave oven while you out there cuffin’
You over there lovin’
That bitch be my stuffing, like
Like we really be fucking

[Hook: x2]
Brand new clip, brand new 9
Brand new bitch, brand new ride
Brand new weed, brand new high
Brand new me meet the brand new guys

[Verse 3:]
[Schoolboy Q:]
Brand new shirt to the brand new drawls
Brand new socks to the brand new Glock
This motherfucker hold 15
Smack that ho in, tell the clip get lost
Bitch I’m a boss
Pulled up clean, don’t you hear the exhaust
Got my tie on, gripping on my iron
Who I’m about to fire on?
[ASAP Rocky:]
Rap game fucked up, boy
Fuck you think I rap for?
Crack game fucked up, boy
Fuck you think I trap for?
Riding round with that mask on
Like a Mac attack when that strap on
Like a Shaq attack on that backboard
Clap on, clap off
[Schoolboy Q:]
Blue pit in my back yard
[ASAP Rocky:]
Red nose my bad broad
[Schoolboy Q:]
Tight and full of that hydro
[ASAP Rocky:]
Pretty nigga, no catwalk
[Schoolboy Q:]
Big burner in your big mouth
[ASAP Rocky:]
Pussy niggas suck lead off
[Schoolboy Q:]
I pull it up then skirt off
Vodka shots, he Smirnoff
[ASAP Rocky:]
40 oz of that Cristal
Rose, that Rick Ross
[Schoolboy Q:]
Got it jumping like Kriss Kross
[ASAP Rocky:]
Mishmashing, no jigsaw
[Schoolboy Q:]
No horseplay when we quick draw
[ASAP Rocky:]
Pussy nigga get a tit job
[Schoolboy Q:]
Hands up, stick your mands up
Your time’s up, the new brand’s up
Brrap!
Q!

Young Thug – Idol Lyrics

[Intro]
*Lighter flicks and inhale*
(We got London On Da Track)

[Verse 1]
I think my idol is a hater
Fuck him, flush him like a radiator (woo)
Lil’ bitch, I’m ballin’ like a pacer (ballin’)
New condo sittin’ on like twenty acres
She covered in white, just like a mansion waiter (and what?)
I load her with cake like she’s an Easy Baker (ooh)
Harley Davidson with a stick like Tomb Raider
Peckin’ this bitch with the wood, ha, paper (woo)
Need some pieces stuffed with them birdies, nigga (brrr)
You think I’m gay when I go 730, don’t get discouraged, nigga (brrr)
You the type of nigga that leave and take the purses, nigga (brrr)
And you should know my behavior’s the worstest, nigga (brrr)

[Hook]
Stop playing (brrr)
Stop playing (brrr)
Stop playing (brrr)
Mmmmmmm, stop playing (brrr)
Mmmmmmm, stop playing (brrr)
Ooooh-ahhhh, stop playing (brrr)
Aahh (brrr)

[Verse 2]
I just bought my bitch a booty, lil’ nigga (brrr)
Twenty five bands spent on a scooter, nigga (brrr)
You niggas signed to him, I’m just tutorin’, nigga (brrr)
Hey, I feel lucky like a Buddha, lil’ nigga (brrr)
“Alphabet boys” is what we call y’all (brrr)
Even though your pussy tall, you a small dog (brrr)
Rick Ross show (brrr)
[?], I spotted you with the kid for the bands [?] (woo)
Even if you JAY Z, bitch, I’m the hundredth problem (woo)
I make her jump like she was born a frog (woo)
Tell me if you love me like the fuckin’ law (woo)
Bitch, I’m drinkin’ mud like I’m a fuckin’ hog (lean)
I got three hoes like I’m Santa fuckin’ Claus (woo)
I’m with Bird from Magnolia, he sharp like lion claws (brrr)
Pina colada, I got a choppa y’all (brrr)
And I’ma run it to the top, yeah, I’ma run it now (ha)
Hahaha

[Hook]
Stop playing (brrr)
Stop playing (brrr)
Stop playing (brrr)
Mmmmmmm, stop playing (brrr)
Mmmmmmm, stop playing (brrr)
Ooooh-ahhhh, stop playing (brrr)
Aahh (brrr)

SOB X RBE – Carpoolin’

[Intro]
Yo…what are you doing here? What are you doing here? What are you doing here?

[Verse 1: DaBoii]
Bitch!
Get off on who you mad at
Niggas laughing, we is down, now they laughed at
Bitch swallow all my kids, I’m a bad dad
Looking for revenge with this Glock, once we tap tap
Stich brain on the opps watch ‘em quack, quack
Indian giver with his life, he can’t have back
He ain’t putting in work, he a half ass
Can’t ride the wave, go home on your back pack
Bitch, what type of shit is you on?
Yeah that’s your bitch but my dick, she be on
8 in a liter, when I sip it be strong
Ain’t tryna chase a bag? Dumb bitch then be gone
Offense with them straps, you gon’ need D
Want beef with the gang, you ‘gon need cheese
John Cena with them tints, you can’t see me
Fuck the law, catch a case, nigga free Theeze
If I gotta think twice, I won’t think at all
Bitch we won, all smoke, ain’t no peace at all
Treat the ops like a blunt, I’ll chief ‘em all
Before you play in that field, nigga kick balls
B-b-b-bitch
Yeah, and we is not playin’
You know DaBoii, he a beast you can not tame him
Take a chain on this neck, you are not able
Whole gang full of demons, we are not angels
House visit with the chop, that’s who rock cradle
All the eyes on us, but we not cable
Stand tall through it all, but we not tables
Niggas wanna play? Game on ‘cause we not playful

[Verse 2: Slimmy B]
B-b-b-bitch
Who the fuck gon’ stop me?
All this ice on, who the fuck gon’ rob me?
All these shooters with me, who the fuck gon’ try me?
High of the kush, in the clouds you can find me
I don’t fuck with niggas like a nazi
Nobody else, then I know God got me
Hi-Tech turn a nigga to a zombie
And I don’t want the puss, lil baby just top me (give me head)
I’ll set it off in this bitch
Feel like Rick Ross, I’m the boss in this bitch
Smack for a band, don’t get bought in this bitch
Make you bulletproof the whip, like Young Dolph in that bitch (boom, boom)
Touch a hundred bands, yeah I did that
Hit the lot, couple bands, yeah I did that
This street shit, naw nigga you don’t live that
Aid or a kick back, real nigga been that (lil’ nigga)
LV and Gucci had to mismatch
And for the right price, you can get your bitch back
Tired of them broke niggas? I can fix that
Just bought a Glock with the plug, where them sticks at?
Get to bustin’ have you niggas running, zig-zags (boom, boom)
Hit the road, get the bag, then I flip that
All the time my brother got, he can’t get back
But I got bands for him tucked when he get back
[?] a nigga got, I’ll switch it up
When you jump in these streets ain’t no givin’ up
Big .40, I’ll make a nigga give it up
And nigga reach for the chain, imma hit ‘em up
Crazy when you see your day ones switchin’ up
Crazy when you see the opp niggas clickin’ up
Fucking on a ho bitch? You niggas sick as fuck
And if it ain’t about a bag, I ain’t picking up

[Verse 3: Yhung T.O.]
First off, suck a nigga dick
Pole for an opp coming, suck a nigga clip
Clip so long, that it’s poking off my hip
If I wasn’t taken, I’d take a nigga bitch
Am I really insane? (Yeah bitch it’s true)
Six figures to my name? (Yeah bitch it’s true)
Heard I don’t fuck with you? (Yeah bitch it’s true)
Fuck what you thought, fuck what you knew
I’m a gold diggin’ nigga, need a check out a bitch
I’ll pass her to the gang, they get neck out the bitch
You was texting like you with it, what you scared for?
Let me hit it from the back, break the headboard
If not, I don’t give a fuck
I got diamonds in my mouth, when I talk bitches lust
Fuck it up sus, nigga getting at me wrong, I’ll fuck ‘em up sus
Chop with a drum, cook fuckin’ up my lungs
Cops looking for the Glock, ‘cause they think a nigga dumb
You will never see me posing with another nigga funds
You will never see me clutching on another nigga gun
Bitch I’m a soldier, I don’t got no limit
I’m a foreign car driver, I don’t ride no Civic
I’m a wild ass nigga and I don’t act civil
I don’t smoke no kush, I don’t smoke no skittles
Addicted to them racks, I’m a motherfuckin’ thief
All these bands still hanging out my motherfuckin’ jeans
Give a nigga all head ‘til its barely dome
I been running at that bag ‘til it’s barely gone
Let a nigga hit like I’m Barry Bonds
And I don’t fuck with niggas, I’m a uncle tom
Four-five on my hip but I’ll tote a nine
And if you ever take my bitch she was barely mine

[Outro]
RBE SOB that’s the gang bitch

Young Scooter – Jugg King

Hey Tawn, turn that beat down
YoLil Daddy in this bitch here
Ya dig
You say you a hitman but you ain’t hit shit
You say you a lick man but you ain’t hit no licks
You say you a dope boy but you ain’t sold no bricks
My baby mama left, I bought another nigga bitch
I do what I want, you do what you can
I stashed away a mil just if shit don’t go as planned
I do what I want, you do what you can
I stashed away a mil just if shit don’t go as planned
I’m a real nigga
Lick hitter, bitch getter
Quick flipper
Pot whipper, dope dealer
Fly nigga
If I pop I’ma ride nigga
Goyard, a hundred racks inside nigga
You a fuck nigga
I could get you touched nigga
I be in your hood
So I know what’s up with you
You a worker nigga
Hang around plugs nigga, you the dope man
You ain’t got no drugs nigga
I’m a boss nigga, I’m bossed out like Rick Ross nigga
Five-fifty bands, you know what that cost nigga
My shit paid for
You paid a note, you ridin’ a rental, I got Freebandz
You know Future that’s my nigga, Scooter!
You say you a hitman but you ain’t hit shit
You say you a lick man but you ain’t hit no licks
You say you a dope boy but you ain’t sold no bricks
My baby mama left, I bought another nigga bitch
I do what I want, you do what you can
I stashed away a mil just if shit don’t go as planned
I do what I want, you do what you can
I stashed away a mil just if shit don’t go as planned
Real dope boy
Nigga you a ho boy, you move a brick a month
That means your trap too slow boy, every day I stunt
I put on a show boy, you ain’t got no money
Nigga you a broke boy
I do what I want, I got real cash
They call me the Jugg King ’cause I got real swag
I ain’t talking clothes
Bitch I got them bags
You know this a pound house and we don’t sell halves
I’m a boss nigga
Yeah I took a loss nigga
If you in the streets
Watch out for the cross nigga
I don’t trust niggas
‘Cause I can’t take no loss nigga, I got Freebandz
Yeah Casino that’s my nigga, Scooter!
You say you a hitman but you ain’t hit shit
You say you a lick man but you ain’t hit no licks
You say you a dope boy but you ain’t sold no bricks
My baby mama left, I bought another nigga bitch
I do what I want, you do what you can
I stashed away a mil just if shit don’t go as planned
I do what I want, you do what you can
I stashed away a mil just if shit don’t go as planned
Hey Tawn, turn that beat down?

DJ Kay Slay – Wild One (feat. Rick Ross, 2 Chainz & Meet Sims)

[Chorus: MeetSims]
I gave my life, my heart, my soul to you motherfuckers
How you gonna hate on me?
These sticks, these stones [?] with my bones
I swear I’ll burn this motherfucker to the ground
[?] to turn your back on me
Fucking with a wild, wild one

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I’m captivatin’ the bitches, gold flow in my veins
In my Yeezy Adidas and I’m still running from fame
A lot of men to recover, a lot of money to gain
Double M in this bitch, like Troy Ave I’ma bang
Double park my Carrera, ever step, that’s an error
Go to war for dinero, you better get on my level
He lost his crib to the bank, while I’m swimming in dank
Lessons learned in life, nigga you give or you take
She swallowed me on the first, still a hundred a verse
[?] shells in the heat cause my last season was [?]
Pat Riley of rap, all my niggas got rings
Or at least a Ferrari, they need police on the scene

[Chorus: MeetSims]
I gave my life, my heart, my soul to you motherfuckers
How you gonna hate on me?
These sticks, these stones [?] with my bones
I swear I’ll burn this motherfucker to the ground
[?] to turn your back on me
Fucking with a wild, wild one

[Verse 2: 2 Chainz]
I did it for the streets with my mama in mind
I had sex with a twin, had the other one crying
Our time is divine, I recline or retire
I ain’t tired of the grind, I’m just tired of you lying
Told my bitch "I got your back," tat my name on her spine
Got my hand on her ass, Givenchy’s on the gas
Got semis in the dash, I got a van full of ballers like a soccer dad
I just had to laugh
1-50 in reverse and I know not to crash
If I roll my own joints, then I’m not gon’ pass
I’m getting more paper, I need to get me more haters
I got things bling and this flavor, got this shit looking like Vegas

[Chorus: MeetSims]
I gave my life, my heart, my soul to you motherfuckers
How you gonna hate on me?
These sticks, these stones [?] with my bones
I swear I’ll burn this motherfucker to the ground
[?] to turn your back on me
Fucking with a wild, wild one

[Verse 3: Kevin Gates]
How you feel? I don’t give a fuck
Love to tell a bitch nigga no
Pussy nigga get it out the mud
Multi-platinum, think I’m going gold
Phone ringin’, put ’em on hold
Grinding, tryna keep it in road
Deal with shit that you’ll never know
By the rules, sticking to the code
Fast cars, status in the game
Got a reputation with the name
Passed the lane, I just want the change
Rappers lame, niggas want the fame
Get out of the way, bitches say I changed
Love the Range, that’ll probly change
Run upon me when you think I am slipping
Big shit gripper, I ain’t timid
[?]
You would think I’m talking [?]
Big bitch always giving mention
Feel a way to get it off your chest
G Shock watch tell the time
These blocks over here is mine
Crap in the barrel ass nigga
Grab at ya while you tryna climb

[Chorus: MeetSims]
I gave my life, my heart, my soul to you motherfuckers
How you gonna hate on me?
These sticks, these stones be with my bones
I swear I’ll burn this motherfucker to the ground
[?] to turn your back on me
Fucking with a wild, wild one

9-24-7000 – Action Bronson feat. Rick Ross lyrics

Lyrics Action Bronson – 9-24-7000

S**t, sweep you off your feet
Like Ryu in the corner
S**t, man, haha
Smooth, man
I’m a f*ckin’ smooth mover, ughhh.(9-24-7000)

Yo if I didn’t say it’s me you would probably think it’s Sting
My fish go bling, what, this old thing?
I never switch up, my brother need a biscuit
Then I’m gripped up, hangin’ off my shoulder, f*ck the bullshit
November rain came the same day versuri-lyrics.info
My daughter taught me how to do the Nae Nae to Calle 13
Only compare me to Kevin Spacey
Or Rubén Blades, the blunt fat like two tamales
Do a world tour and scoop some dollars
Come home and hit the pool hall
I’m fishbowlin’ new Impalas
Two Russian twins suck while I drive fast
It’s me, man.

I’m the one that takes the wolf head, wears it on my own head
Wisdom from the old heads, you ain’t gettin’ no head
You ain’t gettin’ no bread, you ain’t gettin’ no shows
You ain’t gettin’ no dough, you ain’t gettin’ no h**s
Dawg I hit the best of ’em, mothaf*ck the rest of ’em
Well now I’m nestled in the Tesla eatin’ pretzels, haaa?
I should prolly put a wetsuit on
I’ll be right back..

Young Renzel, line two
Young A.B., I got this you dig?
Yeah, yo
M-M-M-Maybach Music
I love my rude b*tches, end up as new b*tches
Skippin’ school b*tches, cookin’ me food b*tches
All my niggas down, we lookin’ like Fu-Schnickens
Got a few tickets for b*tches who truly digged us
College dormitories, fill ’em with smooth lyrics
Air Max 95s, grey sweats, true menace
Known as a Jonas, complex on the phoner
Simple individual, confident in the Lotus
Foreign ambitions, they go with my last wishes
As I open my eyes, surprised by 7 figures
Baking soda required, decided drug dealin’
Residents is divided amongst the feds and the children
Let him keep totin’ drugs if he willin’ to plead guilty
The star state witness, they’ll hit you up for that selfie
Dro can only help me, Backwood and I’m healthy
I’m the label owner, I’m the only one can shelf me, biggest
MMMMaybach Music
Boss.

Why are we letting things on the outside of our physical penetrate our soul,
penetrate our nuanced wiring system, our cerebral cortex, okay?
What really is a thought? Can you control when a thought arrives outside of the brain?
Can you or can’t you? Is free will a real thing or is it the philosophy of free will?
Seekin’ scripture, hahaaa.
Action Bronson lyrics
Video Action Bronson

That fart – Faze Adapt feat. Yung Romvn lyrics

Lyrics Faze Adapt – That fart

Aye, that fart, okay
That fart.

We don’t conversate if you don’t stink, that fart
Yeah I’m going crazy like I’m Banks, that fart
I need toilet paper, that fart
G-Fuel got that flavor (Tropical Rain)
That fart, that fart, that fart, that fart, ayyy!

Huh? what? that faaart
Still making vids yeah I’m in my prime
Little b*tch, I’m back and poppin’
Gotta keep on going with the bangers never stopping
Spaghetti and hot pockets
b*tch you know I’m faaarting
Quarter pounder burger Kay, that faaart
Hitting stankers like I’m Rain (that’s my boy Nordan), that faaart
4AO where we make that stank, that faaart
Fans trying to get in but we got that gate
faaart or don’t, boy choose your fate
Bangers on bangers boy
6 years I’ve been doing this
Keep talking RiceGum make a diss
You just shot but you gon’ shoot and miss
Got a chain that’s where the rolls, boy
GTR, you know I whip in it
When I skrt you know I rip in it
So loud it sound like you faaart in it.

We don’t conversate if you don’t stink, that faaart
Yeah I’m going crazy like I’m Banks, that faaart
I need toilet paper, that faaart
G-Fuel got that flavor (Tropical Rain)
That faaart, that faaart, that faaart, that faaart, ayy!

Oh shayte, oh shayte, oh shayte, oh shayte
Oh shayte, oh shayte, that faaart
faaarting on these haters ’cause I ate Chipotle, that faaart
Walking living legend, yeah I feel like Nordan, that faaart (Nordan ayy!)
Walking living legend, yeah I feel like Nordan, ayy, yeah, yeah
Yeah I be back on my rap s**t, trap s**t
‘Bout to pull up in a nice whip
Bad chicks, standing looking better than a bad b*tch
In my new car got no key, just a nice switch
Night, got me moving quicker than a ..
Why you moving slow? yeah you’re looking like an old b*tch
All we do is .. ’cause I’m shitting
Better bring the water ’cause this fire what I’m spitting
Yeah I feel like Ludacris, my tires looking spinning
b*tch I got the liquer so you know that I be sippin’
All night no sleeping, oh, just chillin’, here, never chillin’
Always grinding ’cause the money only thing on my mind
Yeah, never got that time, always got in dimes, yeah
Keep talking I’mma get that nine, ayy
Keep talking I’mma get that nine, ayy, yeah
Get that nine, ayy, all of my b*tches they dimes
Ayy, yeah, I got the time versuri-lyrics.info
Ooh, look at my wrist yeah it flodded, ooh
All of these b*tches they ugly, ooh
All of my b*tches they pretty, ooh
Running all this s**t
Everytime I go, yeah I step up in your city like.

We don’t conversate if you don’t stink, that faaart
Yeah I’m going crazy like I’m Banks, that faaart
I need toilet paper, that faaart
G-Fuel got that flavor (Tropical Rain)
That faaart, that faaart, that faaart, that faaart, ayy!

Four mill, yeah I made it, still ain’t changed, that faaart
Going so hard it smell kinda strange, that faaart
Hop on pose man get that canes (get that canes), that faaart
Don’t forget to call the gang
Hop in the R8, head that way
Viral on top of viral, boy
So much it smellin’ vial, boy
Since I was younger I wanted to ball, boy
But the coach said I’m too small, boy
So I hopped on Free For All
Shots out the crane, I’m looking tall
If it ain’t about money please don’t give me that call
We only pay .. we ain’t f*cking with the ball.

Yeah, ayy, never play broke, ayy
Turned myself into a boss, ooh
Pockets they fat, Rick Ross, ooh
I’m only drinking on Voss, ooh
Yeah, that is your hoe, ooh, she tryin’ to call
Yeah, yeah, they don’t wanna see us ball.

We don’t conversate if you don’t stink, that faaart
Yeah I’m going crazy like I’m Banks, that faaart
I need toilet paper, that faaart
G-Fuel got that flavor (Tropical Rain)
That faaart, that faaart, that faaart, that faaart, ayyy!

Faze Adapt lyrics
Video fart

DJ Khaled – Whatever (feat. Future, Young Thug, Rick Ross & 2 Chainz) (Grateful Album)

[Intro: Future & DJ Khaled]
Hide the money and ran outta room, yeah
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
DJ Khaled!

[Chorus: Future]
Money on your head, you might get hit up today
You can’t be wonderin’ why they always stayin’ dead broke
In the kitchen cookin’ chickens like a redbone
My grandma seen me buy my first Polo sweater
I, got my hand flooded, I, bought the whole projects
I, got my hood stuntin’, this whatever
I, charged the whole 30, I, got my niggas workin’
I, got my bitches down for whatever
(I tried to hide the money and ran outta room) Whatever!
(I tried to hide the money and ran outta room) Whatever!

[Verse 1: Young Thug]
(Geek!)
Pay up like I’ve been runnin’ it up forever
I ran that shit up through the roof
Young nigga ran that shit up for his mother
Buy her everything and I got proof
Up, designer fit, ain’t known to buy it
And I done whipped every tire
With the brake pad, "Mello Yello", catch up
Ring me up like your pop-pop, whatever you need to
I skeet then skeet off in a new coupe, keep up!
That V-12 ’bout to heat up, grab your seatbelt, your seatbelt
The color of my boxers, yeah I’m Tommy’d up
Got the Tommy tucked, ayy
I toss that shit up like a spray, watch it spill on the clothes
I soak that shit up when they told me "Don’t matter, boss won"
I suspended these bitches and I subpoenaed these niggas
To see who was real
I supported my bank account and I wouldn’t tell you the account

[Chorus: Future]
Money on your head, you might get hit up today
You can’t be wonderin’ why they always stayin’ dead broke
In the kitchen cookin’ chickens like a redbone
My grandma seen me buy my first Polo sweater
I, got my hand flooded, I, bought the whole projects
I, got my hood stuntin’, this whatever
I, charged the whole 30, I, got my niggas workin’
I, got my bitches down for whatever
(I tried to hide the money and ran outta room) Whatever!
(I tried to hide the money and ran outta room) Whatever!

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
Maybach Music
DIamonds all on my fingers, misses still miscellaneous
Left the ski-mask in the ‘Rari, residencies out in Vegas
Smoking like Calvin Broadus, blueberry with the big homie
Idols becoming rivals, down to die for my survival
Fell in love with the money, she at the spot every Sunday
Loyalty’s what I lust, how I measure my woman
Minimize my mistakes, love every tat on my face
DJ Khaled my blood, got several M’s in my safe

[Chorus: Future]
Money on your head, you might get hit up today
You can’t be wonderin’ why they always stayin’ dead broke
In the kitchen cookin’ chickens like a redbone
My grandma seen me buy my first Polo sweater
I, got my hand flooded, I, bought the whole projects
I, got my hood stuntin’, this whatever
I, charged the whole 30, I, got my niggas workin’
I, got my bitches down for whatever
(I tried to hide the money and ran outta room) Whatever!
(I tried to hide the money and ran outta room) Whatever!

[Verse 3: 2 Chainz]
2 Chainz
Watch me break down bales, residue on scales
Yeah, I had the girls sick, man I cure like nails
Competition might fail, repetition might sell
Dirty kitchen, dirty dishes, dirty bitches, oh well
Foreign whip rider, lobster on my rider, uh
You can get the platter, uh, I put my money up
You gon’ need a ladder, work, no acrobatics
Work, no calisthenics, my dick be acting stingy
My check be acting boujee, my car got all the groupies
I bought a new Rolex now my old Rolex tryna sue me
Fashion on exotic, pistol on regardless
Bitches look like Barbie
Ricky Bobby on my trolly

[Bridge: Future]
Tryna set a bando on fire
I’m just tryna get you so higher
Money coming in, we get flyer
You must be tryna wife her like Tiger

[Chorus: Future]
Money on your head, you might get hit up today
You can’t be wonderin’ why they always stayin’ dead broke
In the kitchen cookin’ chickens like a redbone
My grandma seen me buy my first Polo sweater
I, got my hand flooded, I, bought the whole projects
I, got my hood stuntin’, this whatever
I, charged the whole 30, I, got my niggas workin’
I, got my bitches down for whatever
(I tried to hide the money and ran outta room)
Whatever!
(I tried to hide the money and ran outta room)
Whatever!

Lil Pump – Boss

[Hook]
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Walk in the trap like a boss, ooh
Walk in the trap like a boss
Walk in the trap like a boss, oooh
Walk in the trap like a boss
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, ooh
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, ooh

[Verse]
Walk in the trap, Ric Flair, ooh
Fuck a nigga bitch don’t care, damn
Throwin’ up racks in the air, damn
Told that bitch Lil Pump yeah, ooh
Damn, I just broke my wrist
100 on my wrist, can’t tell me shit
Pop 4 xans then I fucked a nigga’s bitch
Never wearin’ slippers, I always flippin’ bricks
Aye, yeah I came up with the sauce damn
Damn, yeah I sold crack in the halls, damn
Lil Pump, bands on top
Gave my mom 2 Glocks
Damn, everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and its Fiji, ooh
Damn, everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and its Fiji, ooh

[Hook]
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah

Boss – Lil Pump lyrics

Lyrics Lil Pump – Boss

Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeahhh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Walk in the trap like a boss, ooh
Walk in the trap like a boss
Walk in the trap like a boss, oooh
Walk in the trap like a boss
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, oohhh.

Walk in the trap, Ric Flair, ooh
f*ck a nigga b*tch don’t care, damn
Throwin’ up racks in the air, damn
Told that b*tch Lil Pump yeah, ooh
Damn, I just broke my wrist
100 on my wrist, can’t tell me s**t
Pop 4 xans then I f*cked a nigga’s b*tch
Never wearin’ slippers, I always flippin’ bricks
Aye, yeah I came up with the sauce damn
Damn, yeah I sold crack in the halls, damn
Lil Pump, bands on top
Gave my mom 2 Glocks
Versuri-lyrics.info
Damn, everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and its Fiji, ooh
Damn, everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and its Fiji, ooh.

Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeahhh.
Lil Pump lyrics
Video Lil Pump

Amine – Redmercedes

[Pre-Chorus]
With my niggas in my red Mercedes
Attitude like fuck you, pay me
Rolling deeper than Adele when we go out
If the ladies show up, then we show out
With my girl in my red Mercedes
Attitude like fuck me, baby
Leather seats so she wetter than a pool now
When that thing go up then she go down

[Chorus]
This shit so clean, I put that on my life
Red Mercedes beam, it’s a different type
This shit so clean, I put that on my life
Red Mercedes beam, it’s a different type

[Verse 1]
Wood grain Nada, yes I’m the Baba
Don’t rock Prada, what’s a stylist
I’d rather make my clothes, merch by the boat load
Banana club popping, yep I’m super biased (true)
Tint so black, look like my complexion
Neo I’m the one like I had direction
Rims look like they were shipped from heaven
Trunk so big it could fit my reverend (yeah!)
And that nigga’s pretty big
Engine so fast, every block is a trip
Baby girl wished that I copped the two seater
But I had to get five ’cause my niggas want to ride

[Pre-Chorus]
With my niggas in my red Mercedes
Attitude like fuck you, pay me
Rolling deeper than Adele when we go out
If the ladies show up, then we show out
With my girl in my red Mercedes
Attitude like fuck me, baby
Leather seat so she wetter than a pool now
When that thing go up then she go down

[Chorus]
This shit so clean, I put that on my life
Red Mercedes beam, it’s a different type
This shit so clean, I put that on my life
Red Mercedes beam, it’s a different type

[Verse 2]
Looking out my rearview, all I see is haters (hatin’)
This is just a preview, I’ll use my gas for later (maybe!)
Black ice, black seats, yeah I’m bumping Blackstar
Rednecks tell me that I got a nice car
Gotta make sure that I keep my baby clean
This game keep me hungry like I’m Katniss Everdeen
Just got the whip washed
Shining like it’s pish-posh
Engine sound like it needs an ad-lib from Rick Ross
No I ain’t M.M.G
But my next purchase might be an M3 (sheesh)
Sicker than most, look at the folk
Trippin for dollars so holler for gold
Picking apart my problems
Like when Peter Piper picked his nose
Whip looked like it got dipped in a cherry coat
Mercedes’ same color as the hair on a Lil Boat (Lil Boat)

[Chorus]
This shit so clean, I put that on my life
Red Mercedes beam, it’s a different type
This shit so clean, I put that on my life
Red Mercedes beam, it’s a different type

Rick Ross – Trap Trap Trap (feat. Young Thug & Wale)

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Beep
Beep
I’m sittin’ at the red light
My ankle monitor beepin’
Hadn’t been charged
I think I see the beeper
Bounce

[Chorus: Rick Ross]
I took my roof off at the red light
I took my roof off at the red light
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Brown bag legend ’cause it’s all cash
Brown bag legend when it’s all cash
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
First one on the block, woah
I need mine off the top, uh
Over town, he got shot
Muddy died in [?]
Couldn’t save one Hummer
Hit ’em up, hmm, hmm
See the look on my face (woo!)
Like [?]
Niggas hate on my sound
‘Til I went the [?]
Then I earnt the Lombardi
Ain’t no fuckboys allowed
Only fuck if she exclusive
Her favorite rapper Lil Boosie
To tell the truth I didn’t ask
When it come to bitches I’m Gucci
I’m the wrong one to rob
In the jungle I’m Nas
In the label I’m Russ
In the trap I’m Rick Ross
Double M, Goldman Sachs
Just like Omar and Khloe
You can’t dial for the packs
I sent you right back loaded

[Chorus: Rick Ross & Young Thug]
I took my roof off at the red light
I took my roof off at the red light
I took my roof off at the red light
Roof off at the red light
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, sheesh
Brown bag legend ’cause it’s all cash
Brown bag legend when it’s all cash
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap

[Verse 2: Young Thug]
I was tryna bet the whole map, Vegas, stay in the trap
Niggas talkin’ ’bout raidin’ the trap
Man I’m ’bout to go ape in the trap (nigga goin’ ape shit)
Nigga watch your babies in the trap
Nigga cook a whole base in the trap
Young nigga slave in the trap
Nigga run base, base in the trap
I’m ’bout to get this shit movin’, yeah
Answer the door with the Woolie, yeah
Wrist in the water, I need me a boat
I’m ’bout to get this shit cruisin’, yeah
Stand at the store ’til you’re woozy, woozy
Let’s make a movie, movie, yeah
Movie, movie, movie
Bitch I’m richer than Tom Cruise, yeah
So many different meds on me
Fuck around, call the fed on me
Boom boom boom your head, homie
Draco got a lot of lead on it
You dead

[Chorus: Rick Ross]
I took my roof off at the red light
I took my roof off at the red light
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Brown bag legend ’cause it’s all cash
Brown bag legend when it’s all cash
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap

[Verse 3: Wale]
Wale though
I ain’t nothin’ like the trap niggas
Goyard backpack nigga
Uber crates ’til the feds pull up
Woo woo, cataracts, nigga
I’m the type, holla at the wife
Her body yours, but her soul is mine
Adios, do a hundred 20
All she want is good dick and advice
[?]
[?]
Famous here but I’m humble
Double M the empire
Renzel got me all day
Kyrie, he LeBron James
Tired niggas say Folarin [?] SportsCenter every day
I ain’t nothin’ like them trap guys
I mean I kinda do bag dimes
I kinda never do back down
Leave a nigga high via rap lines
Get a beat, leave it baptized
Mob ties, but it’s black lives
Black lives, nigga, trap lives
Gimme five on the black side

[Chorus: Rick Ross & Young Thug]
I took my roof off at the red light
I took my roof off at the red light
I took my roof off at the red light
Roof off at the red light
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, sheesh
Brown bag legend ’cause it’s all cash
Brown bag legend when it’s all cash
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap

Summer 17 – Rick Ross lyrics

Lyrics Rick Ross – Summer 17

You scared to die nigga?
Open your eyes wide.(summer 17)

Im out on bars so I gotta beat it
All the dope boys say they wanna be me
I got a lick boy, I got a lick
2017 trust me boy , this one is it
I used to smoke the weed until my fingers burn
Pool of b*tches f*cking me, I got em’ taking turns
My nigga bought the stick but you wanna fade
May runnin’ in the bank a residential thing
All my niggas mad they like f*ck the world
Back to standin’ on the Ave with a couple birds
If you a killer well I’m tryna see
Cause calling the police is the only thing free
I had to park that purple Lamborghini​
And pull that chevy back on out the ..
I’m from the city where they kill for nothin’
And all Renzel do is push a button

I want my niggas rich by summer 17. (x4)

I pulled my pistol then I say my name
I know you scared but repeat your game
You off to hell when you see them flames
Now pray for me cause I had did some things.
..
Got on my necklaces as I’m sittin in the draw
Im livin reckless and it never stop
Thats why im beefin’ with a nigga that live right up the block
A body fall I might just ..
Your moneys gone thats why im runnin’ round
They put my rhymes in the New York timesss.
Rick Ross lyrics
Video 17

Choices – Tracy T feat. Rick Ross lyrics

Lyrics Tracy T – Choices

Came through red eyes no jet lag
Geeked off the money this a 100k cash
Niggas they be talking but this’ what the K said
Prrt prrt get the pigeon no J peck
My glory, gave everything I had but what you got for me?
Took the stairs no elevator ..
Game did force it
Just another nigga want the Bentley and the Porches
Trynna travel over seas shit that ain’t work f*ck it that ain’t work
No tour no .. I’m back on the turf
Probation hating a nigga trynna bet theyself
Baby mama been spiteful ‘cause I never was there
But see they wanted to be some but I’m the one that they blame
Know these hoes ain’t playing fast all a part of the game
I got a M for dumb shit and not a problem with pain
Cause in the end pain came with everything that I gained.(choices)

Everybody got choices
Want them Bentleys or the Porches
Be broke I have a fortune
Running from these voices
(Just a product of the ..)
So the game I enforced it
(‘Cause the game I enforced it)
I’m running from these voices
Everybody got choices.

Everybody got choices
Even playing field could have all had Rolls Royces
Diamonds and pearls have more oysters
The money counting scream heard more voices
Plain jane protects cost more than that hollow shit you niggas flex
I tell shit what’s next
Tell you how to dress and where the cocaine invests
Nigga grab your vest
Young niggas ain’t playing and they aim ain’t the best
That’s what I call Generation X
E-pills or the D get the whole alphabet
Push! G63’s we put baby mothers at ease
Drug dealer disease
Addicted to the money like the air that I breath.

Everybody got choices
Want them Bentleys or the Porches
Be broke I have a fortune
Running from these voices
(Just a product of the ..)
So the game I enforced it
(‘Cause the game I enforced it)
I’m running from these voices
Everybody got choices.

10 commandments on these 36 ounces
Real life I got 36 houses
To the mansion in the mountains
Couple ice Mountain Dew and them bouncers
All black when I deal with these accountants
Off balance then you f*ck with my allowance
All facts get you whacked for a thousand
The bottles all black stacks on the couches
Fi-fi-five hundred for the drive-by
On the plug with in a motherf*cking ..
You come and take me from the sideline
Condo right next to Lady Gaga
Branzino on a grill
Sip surrop spending millions on the pills
In the city no ..
ATL my first trap was in Mechanicville.

Everybody got choices
Want them Bentleys or the Porches
Be broke I have a fortune
Running from these voices
(Just a product of the ..)
So the game I enforced it
(‘Cause the game I enforced it)
I’m running from these voices
Everybody got choicesss.
Tracy T lyrics
Video Tracy

Eno – Xalaz (Xalaz Album)

[Hook]
Zu viele Sippis hier machen ein’ auf Baba
183 holt Kafas runter mit der Kalash, xalaz
Kalash, Kalash, Kalash, Kalash
Kalash, Kalash, Kalash, Kalash

[Part 1]
Onkel verteilt miese Nacken, Xalaz
Bei Faxen fliegen Flaschen, Xalaz
Ihr seid Diebe von Handtaschen, Xalaz
Öffnen Shisha Bars zum Geld waschen, Xalaz
Rede nicht viel, lade und schieß, Xalaz
Lebe mit Stil, Dsquared-Jeans, Xalaz
Lege die Line, deine Freundin will zieh’n, Xalaz
Gebe jetzt Speed, Rapper können nicht fliehen, Xalaz
Handy vibriert Rapper fragen nach feat, Xalaz
Doch meine Antwort ist : "Kollege Chief !", Xalaz
Zeitverschwendung ich muss Patte verdien’, Xalaz
Ich bleib in Deckung, wenn wir kommen und dich kriegn’, Xalaz
Links, Rechts Kombo wie Kimbo, Xalaz
Million auf Konto wie Rick Ross, Xalaz
Sie küss’n meine Hand, nennen mich "Big Boss", Xalaz
Hol’ deine Freundin, sie gibt big cock, Xalaz

[Hook]
Zu viele Sippis hier machen ein’ auf Baba
183 holt Kafas runter mit der Kalash, xalaz
Mit der Kalash, mit der Kalash, mit der Kalash, mit der Kalash

[Part 2]
War 5 Jahre schwarz, heute Student, Xalaz
Mach Platz, sieh’ zu wie ich deine Crew bang, Xalaz
Wiesbaden, hier hilft kein Cousin, Xalaz
Setze Meilensteine, Wu-Tang, Xalaz
Eure Chicks’n wollen schmusen, Xalaz
Du bist unterwegs am chusen, Xalaz
Im Q7-S line cruisen, Xalaz
Kinder wollen Blog zum schufen, Xalaz
Schuff, schuff nach Amca, Xalaz
Kush, Kush, baller Ganja, Xalaz
Puff, puff du bist Stammgast, Xalaz
Druff, Druff ich bin anders, Xalaz
Anders, so wie Tupac, Xalaz
Alle mann schreien: "Eno zu krass", Xalaz
Anders, so wie B.I.G., egal wo immer VIP

[Bridge]
Abstand, red’ nicht du Sippii
Kalash, lade und geb’ ihn
WBL City, dein Kontakt ich ripp’ ihn
Für Feinde hier gibt es Tritte auf Rippen
Xalaz, Xalaz, Xalaz, Xalaz, Xalaz, Xalaz, Xalaz, Xalaz

[Hook]
Zu viele Sippis hier machen ein’ auf Baba
183 holt Kafas runter mit der Kalash, xalaz
Mit der Kalash, mit der Kalash, mit der Kalash, mit der Kalash
Zu viele Sippis hier machen ein’ auf Baba
183 holt Kafas runter mit der Kalash, xalaz
Mit der Kalash, mit der Kalash, mit der Kalash, mit der Kalash

Tech N9ne – I Get It Now (feat. Krizz Kaliko) (The Storm Deluxe Edition Album)

[Intro]
Industry does not, feel you
I’m sick of this shit
Blind bitches wish
N9ne’s wickedness away

[Verse 1]
Motherfuckin’ killer B
There’s about to become a distillery
The majority don’t really feel a G
With the paint and a dark soliloquy
Music, they said killed the fee
Me, Krizz, and Makzilla free
So I’m gonna have to keep it real with me
Fuck them straight with agility
They callin’ me crazy
Don’t wanna play me
So I make the music that will target their babies
And open ’em up to wicked shit
They wanna know how hip is this
This never been no hipster shit
So the fakers see me and dis the ‘fit
I ain’t cool like the late great Biggie Smalls, the illest
So I went the route of a killer clown comin’ to pillage a village
Steady tryin’ to get ’em all to feel it
But I learned you can’t please everybody
When my mother was livin’ they used to say "your son is scary Maudie"
I don’t give a flyin’, dyin’
Spy inside of al-Qaeda, they lyin’
When tryin’ to diss Tech N9ne
And when they all shall buy us
I don’t fit the part for main stream cause I’m rougher
Only time they wanna look like me is Halloween motherfucker
I realize I’m not inviting

[Hook: Tech N9ne & Krizz Kaliko]
You ain’t with it
Sit it down
I’m a vicious
Wicked clown
And I’m livid when the critics give us frowns
Trippin’ with this nigga’s sound
Yup, I get it now
Get it, me and you, we are not the same
We unequal and the people is to blame, get it?
I get it now
I guess I got the wrong pants on
And I don’t really make no dance songs, get it?
I get it now

[Interlude]
Y’all can’t tell I’m fuckin’ myself up more and more on purpose?
I love scarin’ the hell out of y’all, haha

[Verse 2]
Stick the masses, whack it off in the casket
Sound like they wrist broken like put the fuckin’ lotion in the basket
How is he livin’ lavish when he rap really fast and he mask it?
They don’t get it when I gas it
They laugh at it, mad it ain’t ratchet
They wanna wear clothes just like A$AP Rocky, like Yeezy and Drake
That’s what they identify with, not with a nigga with the clown paint on his face
I get it that I’m wicked
When I spit it they be comin’ to get ’em a ticket
Talk a lot of shit at the gate and they got to zip it
When I’m bustin’, they open up to somethin’ different and dig it
I get it, I never looked like the average black dude
Track shoes, gold teeth, and covered in tattoos
Yak, booze, reeking and chiefing the sack through
Speakin’ about reaching them hardened hat screws
Jack move
Yes I’ve become a big boss
But I’ll never be cool as Rick Ross
That’s okay, N9ne’s been rhyming
And now he’s shining
Perfect timing

[Hook: Tech N9ne & Krizz Kaliko]
You ain’t with it
Sit it down
I’m a vicious
Wicked clown
And I’m livid when the critics give us frowns
Trippin’ with this nigga’s sound
Yup, I get it now
Get it, me and you, we are not the same
We unequal and the people is to blame, get it?
I get it now
I guess I got the wrong pants on
And I don’t really make no dance songs, get it?
I get it now

[Outro: Tech N9ne & Woman Speaking in Reverse]
So what I’ve come to realize is I will never fit in
So it’s my duty to make sure that I stand the fuck out
Meht etinu lliw eh esuac’ ,meht sthgif reven eh yhw s’taht ,meht ekil gnihton s’eH
If this thing does not kill you
Grind back to back tracks
Find racks on racks
N9ne’s stacking that all day

Lil Bibby – Squad (feat. 21 Savage)

[Intro: Lil Bibby]
I.Trez on the track
What they say they say?
They say you ain’t goin’ hard like you used to
Man what’s goin’ on?
They say they want that mothafuckin’ 2013 feel, man
What’s goin’ on, man?
They say you ain’t goin’ hard, Bib

[Hook: Lil Bibby]
I say I’m still goin’ hard for the squad, swear to God
All these niggas in their feelings, they be actin’ like some broads
‘Bout to buy a mansion in the A for the squad
Niggas in their feelings, they be actin’ like some broads
Say I’m still goin’ hard for the squad, swear to God
All these niggas in their feelings, they be actin’ like some broads
‘Bout to buy a mansion in the A for the squad
I don’t rock with niggas, they some fakes and they’re frauds

[Verse 1: Lil Bibby]
I say I don’t rock with niggas, ’cause they’re fake and they’re fraud
All my youngins pull his card, and they down to catch a charge
See you talk it, but I live it, yeah all my niggas with it
When it come to the money, I’m a savage, I go get it
I just be countin’ them faces, I just be flyin’ to places
Used to record in the basement, young Hov in the makin’
Bibby Ross, I’m the boss, buy it all, fuck the cost
Every king take a loss, goin’ hard, never soft

[Hook: Lil Bibby]
I say I’m still goin’ hard for the squad, swear to God
All these niggas in their feelings, they be actin’ like some broads
‘Bout to buy a mansion in the A for the squad
Niggas in their feelings, they be actin’ like some broads
Say I’m still goin’ hard for the squad, swear to God
All these niggas in their feelings, they be actin’ like some broads
‘Bout to buy a mansion in the A for the squad
I don’t rock with niggas, they some fakes and they’re frauds

[Verse 2: 21 Savage]
Niggas actin’ like hoes
My watch VVS’, nigga and my teeth gold (bling)
I’ma shoot that choppa like a free throw
Bitch I’ma shoot that choppa like a free throw (21, 21)
You put a ring on that bitch and she a freak ho
I got three trap spots and I got four bowls
I got five AKs and I got six Uzis
I got seven bitches gettin’ ate in the jacuzzi (21, 21)
Young Savage and I taste like candy, wanna chew it?
Bitch I get that check, and you know a nigga blew it (21, 21)
Pull up on your street like Doe and cut the lights off (bitch)
VVS diamonds shinin’ when them lights off
Make you take your ice off (21)
She got a fat ass, and her nigga soft
Bitch I rep that double M like Rick Ross
My bitch bad, she say I’m poppin’ like her lip gloss
Got a big dick, finna fuck her lips up

[Hook: Lil Bibby]
I say I’m still goin’ hard for the squad, swear to God
All these niggas in their feelings, they be actin’ like some broads
‘Bout to buy a mansion in the A for the squad
Niggas in their feelings, they be actin’ like some broads
Say I’m still goin’ hard for the squad, swear to God
All these niggas in their feelings, they be actin’ like some broads
‘Bout to buy a mansion in the A for the squad
I don’t rock with niggas, they some fakes and they’re frauds

Mr. Mauricio – Paper Plates (feat. Rick Ross, Yo Gotti & Troy Ave)

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Ricky Rozay aka Pharaoh Dinero
Mauricio, I got this, nigga, sit back

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
A.I. on the crossover
Name a nigga floss more
The crib worth 30
The record label burnin’
Hottest team on the turf
Fat Trel, put in work
Trill nigga still on the rise
Throwback, black car, can I
Got these sticks back in ’96
Cocaine cowboy, howdy howdy, bitch
Trappin’ so long ’til it’s in the pores
Made a hundred racks before you hit the chorus
Maybach, 5 lives in the Taurus
Niggas froze up when they saw us
We the ones started out the poets
Poor student, natural born poet

[Hook: Troy Ave]
Blue SL, got the centerfold
Sittin’ passenger, got a centerfold
New model Benz, new model bitch
We just livin’ life, dope dealer rich
Who got it? We got it
Who done it? We did it
One hunnid, we livin’
Get money, do business
Real niggas love me, fake niggas hate me
I’m still in the streets eatin’, paper plates

[Verse 2: Yo Gotti]
The chopper make a nigga Milly Rock
I’m tryna buy the whole city block
I got fed allegations, nigga
And you a mothafuckin’ city cop
Mauricio! Let the beat drop
I’ma Smurda bands to the Lamborghini lot
SKRRRRT! Closed lips, we don’t talk a lot
Nigga used to whip it out the coffee pot
Can’t remove black youngster
This money turned a nigga to a monster, I am
I got the game from my mama
Hundred round, nigga I’m the drummer
Battle of the bands
I’ll never take the stands
Told you niggas I’m a general
Got the soldiers on command

[Hook: Troy Ave]
Blue SL, got the centerfold
Sittin’ passenger, got a centerfold
New model Benz, new model bitch
We just livin’ life, dope dealer rich
Who got it? We got it
Who done it? We did it
One hunnid, we livin’
Get money, do business
Real niggas love me, fake niggas hate me
I’m still in the streets eatin’, paper plates

[Verse 3: Troy Ave]
Dope boy Troy, you ain’t nothin’ like me
I buy a pack of white tees and pack some white keys (coke!)
One when it’s hot, one in the pot, sizzle
You can find either one in the drop, riddle
I just bought a Benz with the price of Lamb’
But show the new ‘Rari, I was like, "Damn!"
I could fuck up the hood, they won’t understand
Backdoor, the feds might come for a nigga, man
I’ma do it, fuck it, I’ma do it
I just had a half a million and I ran through it
350 on my condo, I paid cash
A hundred on the car, another 50 just for laughs
Hahahahaha I’m laughin’ straight to the bank
And I don’t give a fuck what a pussy nigga think
And I will shoot a nigga dead if they even fuckin’ blink
I’m the wrong one, but the right one to get you play

[Hook: Troy Ave]
Blue SL, got the centerfold
Sittin’ passenger, got a centerfold
New model Benz, new model bitch
We just livin’ life, dope dealer rich
Who got it? We got it
Who done it? We did it
One hunnid, we livin’
Get money, do business
Real niggas love me, fake niggas hate me
I’m still in the streets eatin’, paper plates

[Outro: Yo Gotti]
All gas, no brakes
All gas, no brakes
All gas, no brakes
All gas, no brakes
All gas, no brakes
All gas, no brakes
All gas, no brakes
All gas, no brakes

OnCue – Boy On the Come Up

[Intro]
Simply barbaric, barbaric
Barbaric!
Let that word resound, from hill to hill, from valley to valley, across the broad land
Hear me!

[Verse 1]
Yeah I’m big headed but you small minded
I try and get it, hey, whole team grinding
Fuck what they say, yeah I put my time in
Aw, I need a Louis lining, Michelin star dining
Imma be honest
I was eating Little Caesar’s with the buffalo ranch
Fuck all you geezers, yeah, you fuckin’ old men
Flow barbaric, let my fam come then
Guess she know all my lyrics so she taking off her pants
Cuey be that next shit, Imma cop a X6
Flex on my exes, they already think I’m sexist
All that corny shit you call your raps don’t impress us
Better pay attention, watch how I finesse this
Goddamn, all you rappers are lucky that I fell off
Better switch plans, next six months Imma go the hell off
Yeah, I’m dropping all these records like it’s motherfucking light work
You’re dropping all your records, praying, hoping that it might work
Yeah, I’m showing now like Ds in a tight shirt
Wanna get like this? Then you better fix your life first

[Bridge]
I’ve been on a wave, mama asking how its going
Told her I don’t play, she said the fuck boy’s are fake cause my boy on the come up
I’ve been on a wave bitch, know you see me glowing
You stuck on that same shit, so save it (yeah, your boy on the come up)

[Chorus]
You already know, hey, you already know, hey
Yeah, your boy on the come up
It was written in stone, yeah, everything will go, oh
Yeah, your boy on the come up
You already know, yeah, you already know
Yeah, your boy on the come up
It was written in stone, yeah, shit’s about to blow, oh

[Verse 2]
Said fucking shit, my shit been booming
And money talk, talk that I be fluent
If it’s not, then please keep it moving, I’ont got the time
Yeah, you wasn’t there, wasn’t there when I was losing, all starving then
I mean, barely no food, and I swore to god
I’ll come back to prove I was always right
I see your name in my missed calls now
Hey, girl, you got me pissed off now
I lift off, so you criss cross now
Thinking that you Kylie, you my Rick Ross now
Imma go from summer to the winter, hey
Born a loser but I turned into a winner, hey
Learned it by the finger, if you’re tryna take my dinner, hey
Look what I spit, I repent, I’m a sinner, oh
Ain’t no option when your back against the wall
Break down the motherfucker, hammer or a saw
I keep going ham, oh baby, I keep going off
Go grab your camera, cause your boy about to ball
This persisistence, talent – that’s a win (?)
Way back when, when I put you on my shit
You turned up your nose, but I stiffed up my lip
Can’t hold it in, baby, goddamn I’m the shit

[Bridge]
I’ve been on a wave, mama asking how its going
Told her I don’t play, she said the fuck boy’s are fake cause my boy on the come up
I’ve been on a wave bitch, know you see me glowing
You stuck on that same shit so save it (yeah, your boy on the come up)

[Chorus]
You already know, hey, you already know, hey
Yeah, your boy on the come up
It was written in stone, yeah, everything will go, oh
Yeah, your boy on the come up
You already know, hey, you already know
Yeah, your boy on the come up
It was written in stone, yeah, shit’s about to blow, oh

Curren$y – All On One Tape (Andretti 930 Mixtape) letras

[Intro]
Rest in peace Soulja Slim, Lil Snupe, Big L
2 Pac, Biggie, Lil Derrick, Pimp C, Yellow Boy (?)

Got me feelin like
This weed got me feelin like
This money got me feelin like

[Verse 1]
I’m hella high and these niggas so jive
Hate in they eyes as I drive by, but never will I ask why
It must just suck to be a never fly, underling
This is a boss thing, and these are boss rings
Sunshine on my fingers through the windows of the Gulf Stream
What you know G? Hoe, you don’t know me
41 millimeter Rollie, tryna be low key
Please, them bitches spotted me soon as I slid in
I had my girl with me it ain’t make them hoes no different
They was still tryna get it
But you ain’t gotta lie to kick it
Might be down with it, if she dig ya
I’m outside with the killas, talkin peace
In the breeze, smoking weed but next week I’m Snow Beach Polo Skis
Four inch freeze, me in the prime of my life
I made the hustle and my bitch become sister-wives
And now the love is intertwined, money on my mind’

[Outro]
Got me feeling like 8 Ball, MJG and Too $hort was all on one tape Lord
Got me feeling like, Jay-Z, AZ, Nas, Rick Ross, Scarface was all on one tape Lord, got me feeling like
Tha Dogg Pound, Nipsey Hussle, DJ Quik and MC Eiht was all on one tape dawg, Lord
Got me feeling like OutKast, Cam’ron and Lil Wayne was all on one tape Lord, got me feeling like
All on one tape
Like they was all on one tape Lord, got me feelin like
Soulja Slim, Pimp C — all on one tape Lord, got me feeling like
2 Pac, Bigge Smalls, Eazy-E was all on one tape Lord
Got me feeling like
And Dilla did the beats
Max B
And then DJ Screw slowed it up
Dom Kennedy
Then Jam Master Jay did some scratches on it
Big K.R.I.T., Killer Mike, Slim Thug, Gunplay
All on one tape Lord