Ricky Conaway - 02100 [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Fuck bein' on that chill shit..
R-I-C-K-Y..

Uh, Mr. Ricky in the cut hoe
If ya see me I recommend not to run slow
Automatic high, but it's tricky and you must know
I ain't never put in any sticky in the blunt though
Slip into the front door, tippin' up on one toe
Gotta keep it quiet or I'll trip and let the gun blow
I be puttin' work in every night until the sun go
Up and then I sleep and do it all again once more, pronto
Nod your head and start clap along
I roam around and scope a town like I'm a vagabond
I'm makin' magic with every track that I'm rappin' on
But I ain't even grab a wand, I'm passin' at the crack of dawn
Ya hear that? the smack, was the assassin gong
So if you're wise and you're a rapper better pass along
If you ignore me you'll get more than just a battle scar
Better insert a tac if you wanna know where your ass'll spawn
Cause I'm like Gordon on the final lap
Every rap I have is worth more than a designer bag
All these guys are bad, super borin' and it's kinda sad
Give it bout a year and we won't be able to find they ass
Put em in a body bag
They sleep deep, forget about an insomniac
You better backup, but I ain't talkin' Johnny Man hit wit that karate hand
All these dead rappers got it lookin' like it's Zombieland, got it man?
And we focus on survival
0 to 100 boy you know it's in the title
Lemme say it all again so I can get it in your head
If they ain't dead yet, these rappers goin' suicidal
I'll never slow until the final day I fall into the coffin
I'll be flowin' on arrival bitch I'm hard I'll never soften
They be smokin' in a cycle call it Marley wit a Harley
I be totin' wit a rifle and I'm sorry you're the target and I'm itchin'
Quit it wit the snitchin' and the bitchin'
Even all the richest wanna be in my position but I'm broke
So what's that gotta tell you bout Ricky?
Thanks a lot for waitin' as I try to sound witty
In 2012 I started doin' this for real
Nothin' on my side I told myself to get a deal
So I'm all up with pen and pad, every night a late night
Walkin' into Weber's ask me how I feel, still I know Im kinda ill
I'm gettin' sicker every single second
That's a signal homie try to find a different method
I'm tryna deal wit everybody while I'm independent
Spittin' filthy and there ain't a frickin' disinfectant
Takin' a rest ain't on my schedule
Gettin' straight to the point, decimal
Uh, I'm nothin' less than professional
Bitch I am just an extraterrestrial
When it comes to rappin' y'all are nothin' but illegible
So I don't have a choice, I gotta be very skeptical
But I guess it is perceptual
Fuck it when I rap everyone in the game is edible
("I am the best in the world")
My wallet still is pretty paper thin
Rap to make a milli shit, enough of all the labelin'
A lot of rappers play pretend, I came up in the game went
0 to 100 real quick call me Chamberlain..

Fuck bein on that chill shit..
"Do I have everybody's attention now?"