Word Got some Remy Martin, some good-ass cigars Check it out
[Verse 1] Ayo, late night, candlelight, fiend wit’ diesel in his needle Queensbridge leader, no equal, I come from the Wheel of Ezekiel To pop thousand-dollar bottles of scotch, smoke purp, and heal the people Any rebuttal to what I utter get box-cuttered Count how many bad honeys I slut, it’s a high number Name a nigga under the same sky that I’m under Who gets money, remain fly, yeah, I wonder Eyes flutter as love when Nas pops up Stars get starstruck, panties start drippin’ The ways of Carlito, blaze, torpedo cigars Drop moves, drop clothes Louis the XIII freaks, women nice size I ride like Porsches, thick, brown and gorgeous It ain’t my fault, semiautomatic weapons I brought the world “Crazy,” I’m rich and I’m girl-crazy Dick ‘em, convince ‘em all to praise me They ideology is confusion, I lose ‘em Fellates me, who hate me? My gun off safety Since a Tunnel escape key, my jewelry in HD
[Verse 2] Silent rage, pristine in my vintage shades I’m not in the winters of my life or the beginner stage, I am the dragon Maserati, pumpin’ Biggie, the great legend Blastin’, I’m after the actress who played Faith Evans My little Jackie Onassis, dig? I’m so high, I never land like Mike Jackson’s crib Best on .45, still crack ya rib sacrilege When lids talk trash about the nasty kid Past nasty now, I’m gross and repulsive Talk money, is you jokin’? Cash everywhere, in my bank, in the sofa In the walls, in the cars, in my wallet, in my pocket On the floors, ceiling, the safe, bitch I got all you envy, but don’t offend I’m skinny, but still I’m too big for a Bentley You are your car, what could represent? Too Godly to be a Bugatti, you honestly Must design me somethin’ Tommy Mottonic from Queens had before the ’90s Drug dealer call, rush to the bar Move, niggas, we don’t give a fuck who you are Black card heavy like a magnet, in my stitched denims Pretty women see them them saggin’ Bet a hundred stacks, niggas’ll run it back Just havin’ fun, I ain’t even begun to black Light another blunt in fact
[Verse 3] For the hustlers, thick as yellow bitches for the suck of it Got a bunch of niggas in prison braggin’, sayin’ “It was Nas I used to hustle wit’” I display fashions while my lungs engage hashes, guns on my waist past his Since I’m cakin’ up, put funds in my safe, laughin’ And joining the niggas passin’ you niggas was straight assin’ Excuse the vulgarity, I’m still not fully adjusted Or used to the new fans hearin’ me spit rapidly I never see the whips niggas be claimin’ they drivin’ I guess entertainment means blatantly lyin’ Fake it ’til you make it, I’ve driven those toys Been in the wars, in the streets, cops kickin’ in doors For my deen niggas, your flow cheap as limousine liquor I’m no fake rap CD listener, sit back and roll a mean swisher For my Gs, tell these clowns make room for the king, niggaTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
