Tekst piosenki
[Black Cobain: Verse One]
Good Money for the good tree
Less stress for the T.A.C
I don’t talk „trap”
But why niggas in the trap always wanna talk ’bout me?
You all talking like a auction
35th floor apartments
Probably think that we stallin’
Cause we ain’t puttin’ music out that often
I had to let my shit breathe, nigga
But the fact still remains…
I’m the H.N.I.C
Couple dollars for the chain
What’s the matter nigga?
What you mad cause your bitch ain’t bad as mine?
Lil’ nigga can’t touch this
Let a nigga know if it’s Hammer Time
Gamble mine, I’m like „bet that”
No set ups and no setbacks
Niggas talking fly, we don’t stress that
When I was pitching game, you ain’t catch that
Niggas … , you in Foamposites
We in Balenciagas
I run my city with a light jog
You lil’ niggas wasn’t exercizing, checks deposit
Been on my grind like the old „No Limit”
Riding through the hood, you ain’t know I was in it
Benz all tinted and your bitch all in it
If she see you too, she really want trippin
Lil’ niggas get half a bar for your 32
Bitch nigga, my bitch is bigger than you
Your mixtape? Pepé Le Pew
Meet … , we don’t owe a nigga shit
We ain’t knowing that
If a nigga just hate and you condone that
That’s a mouse trap, I rap all facts, you need to fall back
Yeah, gullable guy
God, I love it
Read your little rant, got back to the money
Everybody know but ain’t none of y’all done it
If you talking bout rap don’t none of y’all want it
I get stamps on my passport
You get stamps to buy food though
Yeah, I got a bad little foreign bitch…
And we just watch the Telemundo
I’m tryina cash out, like Joe Flacco
I seen all you niggas at my last show
We just tryna meet this stat quo
With this crack flow
Tell me why you mad again…
Tell me why you mad again…
Cause you can’t dress
You niggas styling off the mannequin
And I be in the booth like a relapsed Muslim goin’ ham again
Y’all niggas like Randall Cunningham, just out here scramblin’
Yeah, frequent flier, never home but I’m always reppin’
Hating niggas, got 1000 questions
Your bitch let us, with no salad dressing
Grown man making statements
I don’t even know what state I’m in
Big West told me kill these niggas
And Lil’ Jay, he don’t feel these niggas
B.O.A. yeah it’s my turn, chasing money ’til my thighs burn
Brown chick, she like Foxy Brown
Smokin’ on A.Z., man her tits firm
I put knives all in my last raps
I know Rozay, what up Maybach
Shout out Meek Milly, D.C., that’s B.O.A., salute to Philly
And I thought that niggas was like brothers too
Whatever niggas be going through
Ambition was a great time, bring it back nigga, part 2
When you dead broke you gotta live right
So I pray to God I really live life
Cause I sin bad, in a different world
Maybe you can really get to live twice
Yeah, damn that was deep
You know niggas don’t sleep
Yeah, we insomniacs, so we rap better, that’s the recipe
Take 10 and leave the rest for me
Thank God I got a college degree
Cause I’m puttin on while you thinking ’bout it
In my … , I need extra cheese
And dammit, I’m a star (I’m a star nigga…)
You don’t really know who you are (Who you are nigga…)
And I’ve been dreaming b’out a 62
And since you niggas taking shots
I hope it’s bullet proof, bitch!
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