[Intro - Future:] I'm slipping, I'm falling I gotta get up I'm slipping, I'm falling I can't get up But I'm slipping, I'm falling I gotta get up I'm slipping, I was falling Yeah I bet I'll get up I'm slipping, I'm falling I know I'm getting up I'm slipping, I'm falling I better get up But I'm slipping, I'm falling I gotta get up
[Chorus - Future:] Use that money for motivation Them same ones that came up with me hating When money talking, it can change a conversation They'd rather see me locked in shackles, watch me take off I'm dedicated, but I'm running out of patience Hoping these pain pills take away frustration We drinking lean and pouring up until the eighth gone On medication, me and Satan conversating
[Verse 1 - Meek Mill:] Okay that lean had me slipping, damn dawg you tripping Had to tell my niggas and stay focused on the mission Now we at the Grammys, started in the kitchen And I brought the family, fuck them other niggas Cause ain't nobody listen when I told em I would blow Now the VIP be crowded every city that I go Shorty said she like my style, I be thinking, yeah I know Would've never gave me play back in the day when I was broke So I ball hard, post it on the Gram just to motivate em When you're getting money, niggas broke, they supposed to hate it Hurt my heart when I seen my closest homie caught the vapors Gotta watch em closely, backstabbers they poke me Shot me, brought me down on my knees, tried to Derrick Rose me Won em a ring, still did me like I was Kobe Talked down on me when they thought that I slipped You niggas crazy if you thought I would quit, no!
[Chorus]
[Verse 2 - Dave East:] Yo, being broke is so embarrassing, got sick of wasting time I took some packages to Maryland Me and Leek, couple pounds of tree in the caravan Before I ever wrote a rhyme, I had a scam Might have been young, but I had a plan I wanted designer clothes Pooch was in the kitchen with a lot of coke I wanted this money since a snotty nose We was in the staircase, watching fiends drifting off Now it's Teterboro flying private jets, lifting off Tell the pilot I just need to know when we about to land I was watching Ds sending out them fiends Stashed a couple pieces in my Nike sock Never could I like a cop My man ain't know his mother used to like the cop Damn, homie A Cuban chain and a Rollie'll make your man switch Same one you flipped grams with and split your sandwich Meek told me just get this money and motivate em It's no debating, if you broke we ain't got no relation Harlem!
[Chorus]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
