Waka Flocka Flame - 3 Gold Chains [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Hook: Waka Flocka]
All these presidents my pocket like the white house
I'm the type of nigga niggas read about
I get cake, cake, cake like Rihanna nigga
Getting to this cash what my life about
3 gold chains like I'm dealing dope
Off the weed game just listen, I’ll show you the ropes
Ain't nothing worse than being broke
I know the fucking feeling
I'm a rich nigga tryna touch a another million

[Verse 1: Waka Flocka]
Vacuum seals and scales are my best friends
Trap money, fucking bitches and they best friends
Rap money, fucking groupies in the west end
Tryna jack, catch the lad like he Zeppelin
I came up off the shake, I ain't talking Harlem
Ballin off trees feel, like I’m James Harden
I'm known to sell out, like the garden nigga
These yellow diamonds on my wrist, like a tape of caution
Tell my brother, I am on my way to cut some more grass
My worst fear in life, is have no cash
Ain't no feeling on earth, like being broke, nigga
Ain't no trees, then I will sell a fiend soap, nigga

[Hook: Waka Flocka]

[Verse 2: Waka Flocka]
I want it all, money tall, like Dwight Howard
Wrist glish shit, looking like a light tower
New coupe, white paint, like a brick of powder
Can probably shop for red bottoms, soul search you, like I am on a browser
Loud on-deck, I got the charger power
Make a killing off of trees, I should send some flowers
Bands in my pocket, like Maroon 5
So fuck ya twelve dollars and fifty cents an hour
I came up, and so-called friends looking sour
Jealous niggas make me sick, call them Alfalfa
Black diamonds in my chain, yeah the piece Malcolm
So many presidents, I need a fourth hand to count them

[Hook: Waka Flocka]

[Verse 2: Troy Ave]
It's Troy Ave aka Harry Powder nigga
Gold chains, cocaine, pay for hours nigga
Drug dealer love scrilla
Gotta keep it real
Got a a couple of rollies
I don't need to eat a pill
Still popping though
East Coast popping flow
Came from the bottom flow
Now I'm here got it show
Everybody who ain't help my ass can kiss
8 hundred on my belt still sagging bitch
Picking up the bread
Count before we pop
Boy we show the gang tryna out them in the lobby
Always on the side guess he in mine too cause I'm in jail
Every thing I talk the truth
Mothafucker

[Hook: Waka Flocka]