Something about this shit I can't figure it out
They say the harder the grind
The more bigger the house
They say the harder the grind
The more richer the spouse
You get this art by design
From one click of a mouse
Uh
I'm in the trap looking gorgeous
Ugly ass fiend cooking crack wit the oils
I took a small loss now I'm back wit the bosses
My bodyguards MAC will blow his ass into orbit
Scope on da machine is like the glasses on Norbit
Ironic cuz nobody saw shit, wen I torched it
My pad is enormous, chain flash & its flawless
My bitch is like the black Lucy Lawless, with large tits
Flair is the Man of the year
Tom Ford suit custom made curtesy of Vanity Fair
(I'm the fashion God!)
The night was young, stars was out
Moon shining, dogs barking, the wolves howling
The lights was bright cuz nice is like the sun!
Revolving revolver in the rari revving retarted
Don't get me started, not a regular artist
I wreck the market
The feds stalking, I hear em in my head talking
I got the sixth sense cuz really they be dead corpses
I paved the way you haters made a grave mistake to play wit jay
I party like it's 1888, I make these waves to stay
I send a thug Nigga to hell raising this crazy K
I blend the drug mixes so well
Everybody is dead inside, while me I feel extra alive
Except for the red in my eyes, I was smoking sour
The world better recognize, the future is televised
We headed to Mecca to find peace at the golden tower
Everybody is dead inside, while me I feel extra alive
Except for the red in my eyes, I was smoking sour
The world better recognize, the future is televised
We headed to Mecca to find peace at the golden tower
Meet you at the God hour!