Количество артистов: 43,846 Количество текстов песен: 642,600
Количество артистов: 43,846 Количество текстов песен: 642,600
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Артист: Rick RossНазвание : Hold on (feat. Pusha T)Данные: текст песни / слова песни Жанры : Видео:
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Verse 1: Pusha T] I sold more dope than I sold records You ni*gas sold records, never sold dope So I ain’t hearing none of that street sh*t Cause in my mind you motherf*ckers sold soap Got rich selling hope to hopeless But I’m a thinker, methodic in my motives Uh, I motivate to put my ni*gas 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 this image is much clearer Scoring from the heist but I wanted mine purer Aryan, blonde hair, blue eyed like the fuhrer The judge and the jury, the jewellery mad froze Water colors on my neck, f*ck rhyming when you blinding ni*gas We ain't the same color clarity of diamond, ni*ga Nah, I ain't got nothing in common which yas 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 Descendant 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 [Verse 2: Rick Ross] I was passin' my shorts having rich ni*ga thoughts Wish I had a pistol before all the friends I done fought Over night I seen a ni*ga 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 ni*ga too fly Top down, tank top, I think I'm 2Pac So I'm labeled the rebel, ni*ga 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 Got body and mind, food for the soul When you feedin' on hate, you empty, my ni*ga, it shows Follow them codes, ain’t no love for these hoes If you slip and you fall I got you my ni*ga, 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, ni*gas' grandmothers assaulted Throw a gang sign dare you do something about it F*ck coppin' them foams, when you coppin' the home Cop a kilo and have them people on top of your home [Outro: Rick Ross & Pusha T] Follow the codes, ain't no love for these hoes If you slipping you fall, I got you my ni*ga hold on If you right or you wrong, if you riding come on By the end of this song, I got you my ni*ga hold on I got you my nigga hold on, I got you my ni*ga hold on If you right or you wrong, if you riding come on By the end of this song, I got you my ni*ga hold on I got you my ni*ga, hold on, I got you my ni*ga, hold on I got you my ni*ga, hold on, I got you my ni*ga, hold on I got you my ni*ga, hold on... | Похожие исполнители: |
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