Rick Ross feat. Sizzla & Mavado - Mafia Music III | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Rick Ross feat. Sizzla & Mavado
• Mafia Music III

My corner so polluted, young niggas looting
I studied Kenneth Williams, I'm one hell of a student
Remarkable hustle, my niggas coming home
I kept the candle lit, my nigga never rowed
Niggas caught up slipping, gave him a shit bag
Five shots to the stomach, 2Pac gift pack
It's death row, conspiracy theories
Concealed indictments handed to the grand jury
Get some money now, you hated by your own kind
The home invasion done by niggas in your bloodline
GABOS, game ain’t based on sympathy
So he put a hit on his cousin in 18th
A sweet potato pie, oh me, oh my
Showing no remorse watching the others cry
Heroine sales, detectives'll sell
A lot of yellow tape, why don't Obama care?
This the mob, bitch, silk underwear
Yeezy concerts, Kim Instagrams
Niggas hating oh, they studied my moves
***
Two attempts on my life, they threatened venues
Can't you see what I am? The hustle contnue
I want more juice, I ordered the Wraith
I got a new style of shoes, master watching the face
Bill barely check, coaching and calling the shots
Throw a yellow flag, pussy nigga body drops
Then we celebrate, black bottles pop
Sat in elevate, mediocre shot
Wale a genius, Meek Mill a superstar
My new crib in Phoenix, ten car garage
Petite felite, platinum Audemars
Ain't no tags needed, nigga, I own them cars
I know them bitches, we met them broads
Never loved one, fucked them all
I'm a fucking dog, Ricky fucking Ross
*** merchandise just for my runner-ups
But my main bitch she get the main dish
Not the old range, that was a lame bitch
Brazilian weed, she said I can't quit
I let her see a hundred ki's, a differet St.Nick
Moving bricks like it's Black Friday
She gotta fuck me or call me a fat crybaby
Looking over my shoulder, I can't trust a soul
Poured this bottle of *** just for me and my ho
Glock .40, even when I shower
Chrome .22 in my swimming towel
Mob ties and I pray the music set me free
May the powers that be ***

Mavado:
We around when the sun goes down
And the real, real killers they mourn for ya
This time it'll be a bloodshed
One month, one day it's gonna be a bloodshed
Bop, gunshot in the head
Beeing broke as a motherfucker
Yes, I feel *** to squeeze the trigger
I feel the air when my enemies die
I feel the strength of them killer
What is will be
Only God and them can kill me
Cause these fucking streets filthy
And I ain't fucking guilty

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