Trae Tha Truth, T.I., Rick Ross, Audio Push - All Good feat. Rick Ross, T.I. & Audio Push

Текст песни

I, uh, I hold them chandaliers in the trap boy\nUh, Double M, Trae what up\nMe against the world, got it from the bottom\nNow I’m on my own shit, they wasn’t on shit\nI’m giving em tec, til it knock the king of it back\nStable or something I’m not you better not think too attached\nNo feelings to catch, dreams get cut, better relax\nNo vacation, like get you packed ain’t never teaching, it’s fact\nI was in a state of mind of somebody who in a trip\nI wanted a piece of a Peace of mind, but it got up and dipped\nMinus the whip I hope the bitch crazy she end where she deserve it\nYou go to my nurse, so you… minus the surgeon\nIn this demonstration… no words I’m spazzing\nHear the kick in for the river and that’s nothing you has been\nFor everything they ever done my heart colder than aspen\nWhile they wake up, I barely sleep overdosing on aspirine\nSick of people stopping and knocking, but still they jock when it’s popping\nThe type to work for it’s own, they go to pocket and rock it\nRight off in traffic I’m hoping, that hatred up for adoption\nBout to be relocated, play with me it can’t be no option\nMe against the world but I still won’t quit\nGot it from the bottom so it’s been a long trip\nI had a lot of niggas, now I’m on my own shit\nHad a few hoes but they wasn’t on shit\nThey know I had a lot of wins, a couple L’s\nThe money come, it never fails, they know it’s all good\nWhen the money gone, you see the real, they switching up\nIt never fails, but still it’s all good\nNever ran from the opposition\nEvery opportunity I get to bomb, I’m a bomb on them pussy nigga\nIf you count pockets niggas better watch mine\nGet money, get pussy, let my watch shine\nSix figures for the show nigga, get fifty for the after party\nAnd that’s for the lil nigga\nYou better hold them to your hold nigga, fast money running rapping\nNow she running with a dope nigga\nTwo-door Rolls Royce nigga, you man make it famous I just… boy\nStill text your old lady boy, she hit back everytime you land up in your lazy\nboy\nStrip club, back… pour it up, peep the weakness… I had to sew it ip\nYeah, I had to sew it up\nGet money, where you from nigga? Throw it up\nMe against the world that’s apparent to me\nOkay my momma she ain’t wanna be a parent to me\nSo I’m standing on the corner smoking marijuana\nTryna get the package out to Carolina\nThey ain’t bout the dinosaurs in the dope game, looking for the doors to the\nroom full of cocaine\nAll I ever dreamed, was a beamer and a girl of the cover of a magazine\nExtended magazine, on a chopper and a Glock forty and a mini fourteen\nFully automatic, let the motherfucker have it\nBet they paralyze him if they missing no busting cabbage\nI’m from Atlanta the real one, the place where you ain’t gotta start a culture,\nsteal one\nYeah, from where you can be the man til you kill one\nAnd a bird ain’t shit, until you deal one\nBankroll Mafia