[Pusha T] I sold more dope than I sold records You niggas sold records, never sold dope So I ain’t hearing none of that street shit Cause in my mind, you mothafuckas sold soap Got rich selling hope to the hopeless But I’m a thinker, methodic in my motives I motivate to put my niggas into motors No woman, no child, no witness, no Jehovahs Like Scarface but it's God's face in that mirror We was made in his image, dialing and it's much clearer Scoring from the heights but I wanted mine purer Aryan, blonde hair, blue-eyed like the Führer The judge and the jury, the jewellery mad froze Water colors on my neck, fuck rhyming when you blinding niggas We ain't the same color clarity of diamond, nigga Nah, I ain't got nothing in common with yous Pain in my heart, it's as black as my skin They tipping the scale for these crackers to win No reading, no writing, made us savage of men They praying for jail but I mastered the pen Descended from kings, we at it again Just hand me the crown, I'm active again Everything that it seems, hear my passion again Was never my dream, the immaculate win
[Rick Ross] I was pissing my shorts having rich nigga thoughts Wish I had a pistol before all the friends I done fought Over night I seen a nigga go get a Carrera Two weeks later I had to be that boy pallbearer Young king bury me inside a glass casket Windex wipe me down for the life after Crack dealer living like a hoop star Black marble, white walls in my new spot Four chains, big studs, a nigga too fly Top down, tank top, I think I'm 2Pac So I'm labeled the rebel, nigga get on my level We were born to be kings, only major league teams Chasing my paper, couldn't fathom my wealth Built a school in Ethiopia, should enroll in myself God body and mind, food for the soul When you feeding on hate, you empty, my nigga, it shows Follow the codes, ain’t no love for these hoes If you slip and you fall I got you my nigga, hold on If you right or you wrong, if you riding come on By the end of this song, can't be hiding for long I seen children get slaughtered, niggas' grandmothers assaulted Throw a gang sign, dare you do something about it Fuck copping them foams, when you copping the home Cop a kilo and have them people on top of your home
[Rick Ross & Pusha T] Follow the codes, ain't no love for these hoes If you slipping you fall, I got you, my nigga, hold on If you right or you wrong, if you riding come on By the end of this song, I got you, my nigga, hold onTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
