XV Ft. Trae Tha Truth - Batteries Lyrics

XV Ft. Trae Tha Truth - Batteries Lyrics:

Vizzy where your newer shit?
I'm underground slime, Ninja Turtle sewer shit
That joint I dropped in April
Make them hoes kneel like O'Neal
You retired from that grade, I'm making more deals
So ill, the shit I get out of these tulips got me
Killing the game gratuitous
And I'm throwing out papers like Uzis
So these girls wanna hang like nooses
And why waste any more losers
When I'm rollin in the drop top cruising
I John Houston, I John Holmes it, I Hulk Hogan
Now tell me how I don't kill shit
When I stay bussing like field trips
The only time a nigga ever seen me
Is when he was watching a flim clip
And my old girl say I don't feel shit
Cause I won't stumble over her guilt trips
Miss her period, saying "I feel sick!"
Shit cut that out now, real quick
And I'm on my Uncle Phil shit
Throw out some jazz and get some cake
You think those little Nickis gonna
Make you feel her bass?
I don't trust no one but God
Say my prayers and give him thanks
Porto-potties on the moon
Man my shit is outer space

[Hook]
Say I ain't riding, say I ain't focused
I say "ok! I'm reloaded"
I see the top, that's where I'm going
I'm like "ok! I'm reloaded"

Bitch, I'm reloaded

French Montana - Cocaine Mafia Ft. Trae The Truth Lyrics, Video

French Montana - Cocaine Mafia Ft. Trae The Truth official video.

French Montana - Cocaine Mafia Ft. Trae The Truth Lyrics:

you know how we do mane
that’s that shit, montana (uhh, yeah)
chorus
ya bitch chose a nigga don’t be mad
got pounds of that kush, 40 cal is in my bag
no matter where i’m at, i let that thing go blat
and that cocaine mafia got these niggas mad (fo sho, owww)
homie it’s that cocaine mafia fo sho
i could break a brick down, nigga i could break a hoe
i’m a pro, what the fuck you niggas talkin?
everything’s a go
hop up on a track rape a donna
150 stacks count it back leave the door locked (hold up)
you watching niggas starve while you ate good
now it’s ghetto niggas poppin space call me ace hood
slang wood dick dealer white chinchilla in the huddle
trynna bubble like sprite pink syrup
gotta hit the pot stir it, move an ounce fuck par
and you know never play wit kon a nigga lying like a rug
that coke boy music that kinda shit you get chills for
round table get the bread and butter ‘fore the meal come
talk about that cocaine mafia, word to trae i’m the truth
yelling through the ceiling like “fuck the roof!”

chorus
ya bitch chose a nigga don’t be mad
got pounds of that kush, 40 cal is in my bag
no matter where i’m at, i let that thing go blat
and that cocaine mafia got these niggas mad (fo sho, owww)
homie it’s that cocaine mafia fo sho
i could break a brick down, nigga i could break a hoe
i’m a pro, what the fuck you niggas talkin?
everything’s a go

Lyrics: Trae Tha Truth - Im On ft Lupe Fiasco, Big Boi, Wale, Wiz Khalifa & MDMA

Trae Tha Truth - Im On ft Lupe Fiasco, Big Boi, Wale, Wiz Khalifa & MDMA Lyrics:

I’m on, I’m on, I’m on
Oooh yeah
I’m on, I’m on, I’m on, I’m on
I’m on, I’m on, I’m on
[Lupe Fiasco]
Yeah, glitterati, big bodies and tall swings
Devil on me, spittlefields and all saints
Playing field aint levelling the lane
Throwin’ stones at ya bones kick pebbles at your pain
Swear they go hard
But they sold jello in the pain
Tryna Carmelo but he came
Lord have mercy but we be having that jersey
Flowin’ so hungry, rappin’ that thirsty
Think fast, fast women like Jackie Joyner-Kersee
Fast life like born on Wednesday and died on Thursday
fast money like zakat of fitr, break-fast
Slow my roll like break pads
Cause if you run the light
They just might stop you niggas
Rodney King on the dome, just things that I’m On
[Trae Tha Truth]
I’m on this one way headed where the slums play
If I don’t make it, then somebody tell my son ?
Struggling first class, headed for the runway
Real n-gga shit I gotta make it one day
Hard times so I tell em to fall back
All white but the Phantom is all black
For everything I lost tell em I want it all back
Everyone who left me for nothing tell em to call back
They aint authentic, Tell them I don’t even relate
Minus the love feel like I was something to hate
Tell them hate now
The World looking out, they on the front row
Everybody looking now
I used to have dark nights now it’s bright lights
Daytime bus pass, now it’s night flights
Had a poor man swag now it’s priced right
Always wanted a piece of the pie, now it’s sliced right
Yeah you can tell em I’m home
The streets in need of a king, you can tell em I’m home
Used to be at the bottom, tell ‘em it wasn’t for long
Now I’m always in the hood like I was never gon’
I’m home, tell ‘em I’m something they couldn’t cut off
Try to hit the switch if you want I aint gon cut off
A 100 thousand volts a true thing gon shut off
Anything in the way is gon get permanantly shut off
[Big Boi]
Never letting go, although sometimes I split like banana peels for heels
My spill is so legit, know the scent everytime I pick up the microphone and spit
Eyes wide, ears open like you on a doctors visit
But this aint physics or rocket science
This a little tune to keep you motivated and inspired
I am not a motivational speaker but people get easilly motivated
When they hear BIG reeking
Havoc on the track boi, grab it hold it tight
My city, growl with me, hoochi hoo’ing through the night sky
Bunch of fly, bow tie, made my mark like the craters on the moon
Rocking aligator shoes I’m on
[Wale]
You know me, cool breeze, a nigga high
Rather live alone forever than live a lie
I’m in the zone, phone pro’s keepin me comfy
Got squares, dark squares cover my luggage
I’m in love with some women, more in love with my mother
I’m in love with my God, less in love with this money
And my loving is off, got a bigger cigar
Out in Vegas with broads, bout as thick as Toccara
My ambition is ammunition if this is war
They can’t run, they can’t run, this is a war
Got forever indurance, forever under purists
I put my breath in this muthaf-cka
They better hear it
Good rhythm, bad women and better lyrics
My only dream to get rich and never marry
Give these niggas the pink slip when they appear
And I aint trippin, my only competition’s the mirror.
[Wiz Khalifa]
Remember they used to be like who is this
Now I’m up in this bitch
Smoking weed out in London they bringing me fish and chips
Thought of this as a young’un
Who know this be the life that I really live
Now I’m flying on trips, promoters and owners giving me gifts
Don’t gotta shop, I aint payin’ for shit
This Audemar on my wrist, got it harder than miss
Older people looking at me how I bought all of this
I say I got it from grindin’, perfect timing
Started at the bottom, aint afraid to climb it
Took something rough and turn it to a diamond
It aint come easy, had to find it
And now you can’t say I got game cause I define it
Nigga I’m on like the light and if I ever fall off
I’ll be back on the same night
Me and my dogs we on the same flight
Carefree I don’t need the stress
Smoking Khaled, my weed the best

YC ft Various Artists - Racks on Racks (Extended) Remix Lyrics

YC ft Young Jeezy, Wiz Khalifa, Waka Flocka Flame, Cyhi The Prynce, Bun B, B.o.B, Dose, Wale, Cory Gunz, Yo Gotti, Cory Mo, Nelly, Twista, Trae Tha Truth & Ace Hood - Racks on Racks Remix Lyrics:

YC!
(What you got?) Racks on racks on racks
(He got) Racks on racks on racks
(We got) Racks on racks on racks
(Leggo)
(Hey) We got racks on racks on racks
(She got) Racks on racks on racks
(They got) Racks on racks on racks
Got campaign goin’ so strong
Gettin’ brain when I’m talkin’ on the phone
Spendin’ money when your money is long
Real street niggas, ain’t no clone
We at the top where we belong
Drink lean, rose, Patron
Smokin’ on a thousand dollars worth strong
When the club ’bout to hear this song
We got racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks
Nigga, I ain’t even tryna hold back
YC
Still fresh, yeah, and in my Trues
Iced out, okay, cool
Trapped up, know I keep that tool
That racks on racks so ma’fuckin’ fool
All around the globe, bein’ on TV
Everywhere you look, you see YC
Hatin’-ass niggas just wishin’ they were me
YC, YC, YC
Way too big for my ma’fuckin’ jeans
I’m so fly I don’t even got wings
Eyes real low, just blame it on the green
Girl cut up, got lean on lean
That shoebox shit, over with
She put it on the rack, won’t notice it
My bank ‘count, commas all over it
Racks on racks on racks
Young Jeezy
Young, if it’s convertible, then how is it a hardtop?
Bitch, I hit one button, my roof open like a hard spot
Make me throw my diamonds up, bitch, my life was hard knock
Had so much kush and Ciroc, bitch, I think my heart stop
Every night’s a weekend, every day’s a Friday night
You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, bitch, this just my Friday ice
’87, brick fare, yeah, I’m talkin’ thirty racks
All I sold is hundos, where the fuck my twenties at?
Wiz Khalifa
Racks on, racks off, see that blonde stripper, my hat’s off
Lookin’ at my Rollie, ’bout thirty grand what that cost
Smoke like I’m in Cali, fuck takin’ flight, I blast off
Niggas talkin’ tattooes, we should have a tat-off
Got racks on racks on racks, naps on naps on naps
Just made a mill, count another mill, so put that on top of that
Way back in 2004, I told ‘em it was a wrap
Now my life ain’t my life no more, I told you, nigga, it’s a wrap
Oooh, you claim you a dog, my nigga, I’m the vet
We can’t even talk ‘less you got the check, I guess that’s why all of these niggas get bent
They said “Fuck a young nigga, fuck a young nigga”
I know it’s some girls in the crowd right now who wanna fuck a young nigga
I roll one and roll another one bigger
Niggas thinkin’ they sick, well, I’m sicker
I’ma smoke my weed and I’ma drink my liquor
Better make sure you fuck your girl right ‘fore I dick her
Down
Waka Flocka Flame
(Flocka!)
I got racks on top of racks (Uh!), stacks on top of stacks (Uh!)
Bands on top of bands (Uh!), got me fuckin’ her (Uh!) and her friends (Flocka!)
Bad boys don’t do papers (Flex!), that was just for (Flex!) my haters (Clap!)
(Clap, clap, go, go, go, go, go, Flocka!) Clap two times if you druuuunk
Got a bad bitch from the U.K. (Okay!)
She do everything I say (Okay!)
Go crazy when she hear music (Grove Street!)
She got “Grove St.” on replay (Flocka!)
Got racks you don’t understand (Uh-huh)
Money long from here to Japan (Uh-huh)
Know it good when she go no hands
Girl, you got me in a trance
Got campaign goin’ so strong
Gettin’ brain when I’m talkin’ on the phone
Spendin’ money when your money is long
Real street niggas, ain’t no clone
We at the top where we belong
Drink lean, rose, Patron
Smokin’ on a thousand dollars worth strong
When the club ’bout to hear this song
We got racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks
Nigga, I ain’t even tryna hold back
Cyhi The Prynce
Got racks on racks on racks, y’all rap so wack on wax
Purple by the pound, that’s that Flacco, haaaa
I make big plays, I got big chips
Blue money like six Crips
Switch gears like stick shifts
Fresh as hell, no Big Kipp
We buy cars, y’all flip whips
Catch us smokin’ that quick trip
Pitch piff, that’s a handspring
I like to call that a quick flip
Pull triggers like hamstrings
Boy, I’m doin’ my damn thing
Baby blood with them bricks, pimp
Get off a key like I can’t sing
Got the seven on me like big jersey
Ridin’ round, and this bitch dirty
I’m the best, hands down
They nicknamed me 6:30
I’m wit’ Young Dose and YC
Readell Road, that’s my street
Ask around on the Eastside
I’m the s-h-i-t
Bun B
Bun B, I’m underground king
In the candy-painted car on swang
With the top on drop and the trunk on pop
Boy, you can’t tell me a damn thang
Fifth wheel on the back just hang
Hit corners, hit licks, hit stains
With the grill in the front, wood wheel in the blunts
You’re on neon lights in my bank
Yeah, I rep that P-A-T
One hundred, yeah, that’s me
If you don’t recognize, you gon’ see
I’m a straight-up trill OG
In a black-on-black-on-black
Cadillac, like a Mack on clacks
Try to jack and I will attack
It’s a fact that I ain’t givin’ up my stacks like that
B.o.B
Call me Bobby Ray, but it’s not two names
Flyin’ through the city, all-black, Bruce Wayne
No, not bombs over Baghdad
But on the track, you can call me Hussein
That’s why they nervous, hmmm, like I’m flyin’ on the plane with a turban
But I’m fly, y’all just turbulence, exit row, emergency (Mayday!)
As a kid, I was struck by lightning, it’s no wonder I’m electrifying
Fuck a brainstorm, I’ll fuck around and cause a power outage
And it ain’t no rivals, if it was, it’d be no survivors
Just gimme a hour, I’ll light it up like an Eiffel Tower
Yo Gotti
Got bills on top of bills, scales on top of scales
I’m Mr. All White, got yell’ on top of yell’
Got pills all on my phone, these niggas know I’m wrong
Said 50 for a song, and they won’t leave me ‘lone
Gotta front me a brick, that ain’t nothin’ to you
Just ran through a ticket, there ain’t nothin’ to do
Yeah, I love these streets like I love the booth
Mr. Cocaine Music, I’m 100 proof
Got white on white on white, ice on ice on ice
And when I’m in the club it look like lights on lights on lights
Got campaign goin’ so strong
Gettin’ brain when I’m talkin’ on the phone
Spendin’ money when your money is long
Real street niggas, ain’t no clone
We at the top where we belong
Drink lean, rose, Patron
Smokin’ on a thousand dollars worth strong
When the club ’bout to hear this song
We got racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks
Nigga, I ain’t even tryna hold back
Wale
Racks on racks on racks, I’m tryna smash and not call back
My name Wale, you so silly, wet my willie, might call you a cab
Yeah, ridin’ around wit’ that reefer scent, ridin’ around with Ms. Reece and them
When I’m in the groove, I can freak a tune, I’m smoother than alopecia skin
I shows out, like dope when I put that flow down
Like soap when I put my clothes on, I’m jokin’, but I be Foamed out
And all she want is more bags, but all I want is more 1s
I told her “Bring that money back” like all them racks is Nordstrom’s
Cory Gunz
The tracks on snack off raps, see stacks from back of my slacks
From the X to the MACs in the Ac, if I ain’t strapped, then the gats on scat
Then he black on ‘em like Tae Bo, then he clap on ‘em like bravo
Throw sacks on ‘em like y’all hoes, got racks on ‘em like tight hoes
Young Money, Cash Money so strong, keep scorin’, I’ma bring it on home
Those Xans and the lean cause zones, somethin’ tan with a mean jawbone
Worldwide, but I got fourth ways, one hat carry like four blades
Petey Pop Off, RIP, free Lou, been lootin’ money since like fourth grade
I’m the shit nowadays, so they wave, no whips, no chains, I’m a slave
Let you niggas know Milita my gang, MCN if you was thinkin’ it’s a game
See me with the twin, buck a shimmy with the gauge
Wasn’t bustin’ Jimmy, I’d be busy gettin’ paid
Goin’ for the grips every day ’til the grave
I be worried about chips, you be worried about the Lay’s
Bitch
Dose
Got Activist in my Sprite, Benjamins in my Robins
Frank Muller wit’ flooded ice, but I still got my brightness
In the fast lane, gettin’ slow brain in a 2012 Maserati
I’m kickin’, pimpin’, like Liu Kang, my coupe smokin’ like Friday
Puffin’ on that garlic, sick off all the Marley
Inked up on my hands and arms, got them jams in my pocket
Shout out to Sha Money, signed me in a hurry
Daddy was a kingpin, a couple milli buried
Nigga, you ain’t talkin’ nothin’, all in Flight Corps stuntin’
These exclusive 7s, pay 400 for the Jordans
No, you can’t afford ‘em, sharper than a swordsman
Racks on racks, our campaign strong, and YC like my brother
Cory Mo
Catch me in the city with the trunk on crack
Top dropped down, black on black
Fistful of wood, twisted for the good
Check my bank account, got racks on racks
Look around, fool, got a wall full of plaques
Platinum and gold, you gots to love that
Posted up just like a thumbtack
Better hide ya ho, ’cause she bound to get snatched
H-Town, Texas to ATL
She got a fat ass, she prolly know me well
Keep it on the low, never kiss and tell
True player, Cory Mo cold as hell
Shows to do, got records to sell
Got a whole lotta BMI checks in the mail
If ballin’ was a crime, I’d be in jail
Locked up for double life like “What the hell?”
Got campaign goin’ so strong
Gettin’ brain when I’m talkin’ on the phone
Spendin’ money when your money is long
Real street niggas, ain’t no clone
We at the top where we belong
Drink lean, rose, Patron
Smokin’ on a thousand dollars worth strong
When the club ’bout to hear this song
We got racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks
Nigga, I ain’t even tryna hold back
Nelly
Yeah, they call me Country Grammar, my brother out the slammer
I’m crimson color painted, you can call that Alabama
I’m not from Alabama, but check out how I roll tide
He might have the same whip, but check out how I roll mine
Y’all niggas ain’t no stars, y’all only in it for the cars
The sky is your limit, mayne, and mine somewhere ’bout Mars
I ride wit’ them boys in the middle of the map
St. Louis, Detroit, Chi-town, Nap
Down to the Dirty, back up through the trap
But the money don’t stack, man, money overlap
Yeah, y’all better watch it, mayne, right here we lock and load
Two things is for certain, mayne, and one thing is fa sho’
Got a house on hundred acres, I’ve never seen my neighbors
A chick in ATL and from Buckhead to Decatur
Now y’all better leave me alone, got license for my chrome
Don’t lease or your mama phone talkin’ ’bout “Yo’ baby gone!”
Tell the truth, I ain’t gon’ lie, I got so many rides
Don’t know which one I’ma drive, fuck it, I’m just gon’ fly
Twista
Everybody wanna hate because I’m on, blowin’ head back, bottles by the zone
Twista finna get up on the track and spit it the way I do simp-a-ly because I like this song
When I step up out the Maserati car, gotta pull it, pull it, pull it, pull it from the jar
Then I blow, I’ma close out the par’, wit’ some killers and everybody know who we are
Get Money Gang steppin’ through the do’, Chi-cago, cago, cago
Anybody wanna get into it, come on and do it, for security, we gon’ make ‘em pull the flo’
Might as well get it off yo’ chest, while everybody got ammunition on deck
I don’t see them T-Dum-Izzle as a threat, ’cause I got racks on racks on racks
Oh, Twista, I see your future, finna shoot ya, I salute you if you could get at the general in my military
Racks and racks and tracks and stacks and gats, I could destroy an entire village when I kill and bury
‘Cause I manipulate your molecular structure, other words, fill ‘em up wit’ holes
If you try to give it to me at the door, I just thought I had to let you know
Big Sean
(I bet your bitch call me Big)
I got single bitches tryin’, married bitches lyin’
I take ‘em to the crib and leave our future in a condom
I wake up fresher than these motherfuckers as is
Look inside my closet, that shit look like it’s Raks Fifth
Man, that’s racks on racks on racks on top of packs on top of pounds
My chains is pow on pow on pow, I’m off them trees, no eye, no ow
I’m at the altar sayin’ my vows to this Benjamin Franklin power
You buy her a house, I won’t buy her a vowel, you fell in love, and I fell in her mouth
They called her Dickface, she called her connect
(Called her connect) You call her collect
I call to collect, no need for a pet
If I throw this paper, yo’ bitch gon’ fetch
(Do it!) B-i-g
And the track gon’ be aight as long as we got me
(I do it)
Trae
I’m the hood if you wondered where I’m at (Where I’m at)
In the back of a Chevy that’s all black (All black)
Racks on racks, I don’t know how to act (Act)
Track and field with the birds, I’m runnin’ ‘em like track (Track)
Free throws of money, bet you can’t blind (Blind)
King of the club, I bet you can’t top (Top)
Bitch niggas hate the fact I get guap (Guap)
Or the fact when the money go up, it won’t stop (Boy!)
I’m in the club, tryna show ‘em how to stunt (Stunt)
Tryna pick up what I’m throw, it prolly take about a month (Month)
The club underwater, have ‘em runnin’ out the front
While I’m somewhere in the back, gettin’ blowed like a blunt (Blunt)
No need to trip, you can tell ‘em that I’m cool as hell (Cool as hell)
‘Cause it’s the case I know the pack of pumas well (Pumas well)
I’m a blood motherfucker, that dude’ll tell (Dude’ll tell)
Got 47 ‘neath the old-school as well (School as well)
I got lights on my wrist that’ll flash like cop (Cops)
Couple of foreign cars that I ride no top (Tops)
Couple of whi-whips that I ride like yachts (Yachts)
A couple of haters lookin’, I’m knowin’ them niggas hot (Hot)
And tell ‘em that I don’t give a damn
Hard as a motherfucker, tell ‘em I was HAM
Call it what you want, I’ma do it for the fam
Yeah, that’s the type of nigga that I am
Ace Hood
Okay, I’m back off into this bitch (This bitch!)
Wit’ a cup, and it’s full of that liq’ (Hot!)
Got racks, ain’t talkin’ tits (Ew-way!)
Big stacks, no Lego bricks (Woo!)
Hit a trick and a fiendin’ nigga got it
I keep that hottie, just look at her body (Hey!)
Blew twenty bands in that King of Diamonds
Sorry, that’s just part of my hobby (Swoop!)
And I hear ‘em feelin’ my Florida swagger, so dope, shit, I sold y’all copies
That ice be onto my neck and wrist, now anybody wanna play some hockey
I’m that nigga in fact (In fact), paper tall as Shaq (Oh, boy!)
Blood, Sweat, and Tears, it’ll be on your local Walmart rack
Soon
Got campaign goin’ so strong
Gettin’ brain when I’m talkin’ on the phone
Spendin’ money when your money is long
Real street niggas, ain’t no clone
We at the top where we belong
Drink lean, rose, Patron
Smokin’ on a thousand dollars worth strong
When the club ’bout to hear this song
We got racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks (Racks)
Racks on racks on racks
Nigga, I ain’t even tryna hold back

Trae The Truth - So Far To Go Ft. Meek Mill & Pusha T Lyrics

Trae The Truth - So Far To Go Ft. Meek Mill & Pusha T Lyrics:

[Hook]

So far to go

We gotta keep on pushing, come on

 

[Verse 1 - Trae The Truth]

I’m on a neverending vacation

Until my tires go flat

Or everything f-cked up and gonna fall off track

Picture me like a Kodak

Re-up, nigga, they know that

Feeling like I ain’t got shit

Work in back of a throwback

I’m cold up in this hallway

Hustling out it all day

Trying to get this money

And that Audi 8 in all grey

Haters say it’s over but you can tell them I’m busy

Professor with the books

? with a Smith &a Wesson

Trying to make it to the top, 100,000 miles away

Somewhere in Gabon, where guerillas known to fly cage

Pedal to the floor, I don’t know where I’m headed

But I know if I’m headed somewhere that ain’t for me, then you can get it

Minutes from losing focus, sick is from insane

Tell em I’m coming for it, stomach said the same thing

I’m nothing like a loser, knew I was here to win

F-ck if they close the door, knock tonight, I’m coming in

[Hook]

I gotta make it

I gotta make it though

I gotta make it

I gotta make it though

I’m from the bottom but I still try

Feeling like there ain’t a chance but I still try

The streets is all I know

But still I got so far to go

[Verse 2 - Meek Mill]

I used to play the corner with a 40 on my hip

Hanging in my ? how I’m gonna get up out this bitch

Coppers spedning erry minute, I was dirty as a broom

I used to take it in the crib and write my raps up in the room

Trying to chase a dream

Who thought that I’d be cover of these magazines

Fresh from a jail cell, greasier than Vaseline

I went to BET from running around with Mack machines

Busting shots and ducking shots with killers right in back of me

I never had a choice, I never really spoke a lot

I never had a voice until I started making noise

I went from running with my boys to crushing niggas round the world

Them bitches used to turn me down but now

I’m f-cking all them girls, yeah. I’m from a city where these

Young’uns doomed. I was upset my father died and turned a young’n?.

For every killer, that was killed, there go another goon

So every track they send my way I’m gonna go summer june

[Hook]

I gotta make it

I gotta make it though

I gotta make it

I gotta make it though

I’m from the bottom but I still try

Feeling like there ain’t a chance but I still try

The streets is all I know

But still I got so far to go

[Verse 3 - Pusha T]

Even with the magazine covers and the articles

I still got so far to go

9th-degree black belt in the Art of Blow

Cook pot and a spoon in my arsenal

School of Hard Knocks, made the honor roll

7 grams to a key, I was on a roll

Haters couldn’t stand it, I took it for granted

Misplaced a bag of money and didn’t panic

Yeah, on my road to the riches

Baby-blue diamonds and them hot yellow bitches

You can’t cancel our Christmas

Italian roadsters, high yellow stitching

Yeah, what the f-ck is y’all pitching?

Hall of Fame with the O’s Cal Ripken

My hands still in the snow like mittens

Got my weight belt on: power-lifting

PUSH!

[Hook]

I gotta make it

I gotta make it though

I gotta make it

I gotta make it though

I’m from the bottom but I still try

Feeling like there ain’t a chance but I still try

The streets is all I know

But still I got so far to go

Trae Tha Truth - Inkredible Remix ft. Rick Ross, Jadakiss Lyrics

Trae Tha Truth - Inkredible Remix ft. Rick Ross, Jadakiss Lyrics:

my attitude is f*ck it house biggest public,

shopping is a pleasure pinky .. nug it

niggas like the ..not to buck it

i lean .. white whip michael douglas hard times called for drastic measures

i called my doll he wanna .. eleven

forty .. yellin, niggas .. choppin with the shoulders ..

microphone .. i know i’m wrong

the man .. so sing alone you know the song i’m sing

bring the thing …

is rose i need a hundred bottles, yellow b*tch ..to swallow

h. town real .. i can move em ..

triple back in the mirror .. mother streets

quarter back and .. on top of these ..

all these stones for my .. is part of the streets

the .. danger were part of my sits

i’m in the hood .. but the haters watchin

couple feelin ain’t .. sits invisible

competition is murder haters i’m killin

f*ck my money machine i don’t count it i blow it

it’s my money concede it ..in the good when i do it

i’m an asshole deep .. reckless, i from city houston

you can tell em the .. the king of the streets

somewhere deep with gorillas, can’t you see the gorillas

the others .. tell the truth …

..i know you b*tches hate it

i’m in the new .. the one who ..created

i can’t give you a diamond but i can give you fade it

before you become a member you get initiated

a lot of racks big ice heavy weapon the hood still love me ‘cause i ever left

i distribute it, i get rid of it, so coming back

every beat of it, territorial so memorial and don’t feel bad

talking the only you

this is real shit and that’s nonsense

i got .. i got .. i got investors i get sponsors

..true i’m with monsters, ain’t nothing for sure

and i got ..we’re rushin the door.

Trae Tha Truth - Slammin Doorz Ft. Young Buck Lyrics

Trae Tha Truth - Slammin Doorz Ft. Young Buck Lyrics:

i’m feeling so.. right now!
..this big ass, white ass…
you know what i mean?

slammin’ doorz, pulling and .. (x6)

i know they see me right here, right?
..h town street, do you understand?
real niggers do real things!
so who should be in the.. right now?
oh, i know you all see us right here, right?

so much painted pain, …
‘em plastic white cops ..
i’ve got my tacky scripts, heavy stars…
just got off the phone with jay criss,
they bought the hate, now!
i’m … slowly moving down this road,
what don’t kill you makes you stronger i was told.
so i carriage the low, 200000…
i just …like, i can get myself about this…
i’m slammin’ doorz

slammin’ doorz, pulling and .. (x6)

i’m in the …
.. i blew the barains…
looking …challenge,
i yell the streets, so tell the pussies …
if you ain’t .. with little respect, we ain’t nothing…
still can find me where your favorite gangstas live,
..popping the trucks, slammin’ the the door!

slammin’ doorz, pulling and .. (x6)

..where i go to see the hood,
..everything is hood.
filling just like i should,
take a nigger life i could!
cause i’m a gangsta …
they ain’t got nothing on me,
..they know what we’re about,
black man, we’re coming to get you!
i’m from the city where…
..body rocking down the air!
..you ain’t shit if you ain’t smoother!

slammin’ doorz, pulling and .. (x6)

Yelawolf - Shit I’ve Seen Remix ft Chamillionaire & Trae the Truth Lyrics

Yelawolf - Shit I’ve Seen Remix ft Chamillionaire & Trae the Truth Lyrics:
[Yelawolf]
Half of these motherfucking rappers don’t know shit
Aint seen a gansta aint seen a brick
And they wonder why when the OG’s come around Yelawolf I get the respect I get
Cause I never walk into another man’s house
And tell him what I think about the way he live
I done a little dirt on my own
And I won’t throw stones
So I get back what I give
Reach for the tool homeboy go ahead
If you wanna be dead homie be dead
Who am I to be thinkin that I won’t pop a trunk
If you feelin like a punk
From the he said she said
Life’s not a choice it’s a win or lose
So what’s it gonna be, him or you?
Did he lie on your bed, did she lie to your head?
Well, it all depends on the truth
See I’m realistic and everyday can’t be terrific
I done see one of my boys get ticked off and put his hands on a dirty AK and lifted it
Up in the air, and then saw him carried him
Into the club, I know he wanted to bury ‘em
My crew is laughing, I was scared as fuck and they thought it was hilarious
[Chorus - Chamillionare]
In this game it seems
That I’m lyrically, reaching a point where
It’s no fair no more
Hit em wit that major pain as we shoot and destroy
It’s like I’m bringing war to your front door
In this game it seems
That I’m lyrically, reaching a point where
It’s not fair no more
Hit em wit that Major Pain as we shoot and destroy
It’s like I’m bringing war to your front door
[Chamillionaire]
Look how I lyrically assassinate a verse then
I can get a hook shot like urban
You never bust, rapping just like you a virgin
I know your girl, then get in her belly like a surgeon
A hundred milli gotta get it, brrrr, Birdman?
Christina Milian she ain’t got her man
And I don’t have no dreams either, I’m workin’
Surfin’ the earth and tryna stay urban
You see the heater poking out I got the shirt in
All these rappers getting jerked without the jerkins
The similes and metaphor that I be servin
Goin right over their head, hah turbans
I gotta (?) she a Persian
And I gotta deal with Eminem but I ain’t burnin’
Hot, got a lawyer, hes really a diversion
Im ridin dirtier the 30 days with no detergent
Ain’t really with the beef with the tweets, I get at you
If I ever see you in the streets I’ma slap you
I don’t mean Lebron with the Heat comin at you
Cover up with the duck like Young LA tattoo
All this cake, getting flipped like a spat-u-la
Not a act, like a chat I’m a natural
Suits tried to take me out the game
What did that do?
Still here, like a name up in here at you (?)
Bread cheese, yeah funds really high
Walk in the strip club throw my lunch in the sky
Front til ya die
While I spend a month in Dubai
I’m a God in the streets, da-la-hum-dil-lee-i
Test, and I’ma bet that gonna you flunk when you try
I don’t even gotta to use my gun to reply
You’ll get punched in the eye
Punched in the eye
What is a tie?
OR you can blood finna fly!
[Chorus - Yelawolf]
The shit I’ve seen
Has changed me
What use to be strange to me
Just ain’t strange to me no more (Yeah I done seen this shit before)
It’s just another day outside my door, outside my door
The shit I’ve seen
Has changed me
What use to be strange to me
Just ain’t strange to me no more
[Chamillionaire]
In this game it seems
That I’m lyrically, reaching a point where
It’s not fair no more
Hit em wit that major pain as we shoot and destroy
It’s just another day outside my door, outside your door
[Trae the Truth]
Yeah, I’ma let you take a second to introduce you to pain
Where everybody going through it and going insane
The inner struggle but they focused on making they change
Anybody get it away and they making it rain
If it go to me I’ll probably be doing the same
If I ever could I’ll forever be repping the same game
Rapping on thinking I promise I’ll get the same thing
In the back of the maybach outside of somebody name
Getting brain like I was only here to learn something
Fucking with me I guarantee I’ma return some
Raise some drama then show up tryna burn some
I do my dirt and then I never pay it back
I’m dealing with it and never taking it
You can’t respect, the city been awake
Never get attacked, got it, I cant hear nobody taking that
Wanna hit the block and wanna thug? dreaming to get away
And to the love I got for the streets, the hood
Call up any n-gga who come that and try to fit in I send them away
Yelawolf go get the whip I got this
I open the gate aint no way they could stop this
They want it with us, you can tell em about this
Looking for something pretty, you can em it’s not this
[Chorus]
[Yelawolf]
Pray on my God, I believe it’s too hard
dont reach for the dogs who believe the facades
don’t reach too far to compete with the dog
because deep in the heart they wanna ? this all
I wish I could be the one to say I warned ya
dont pay any attention
man I wanna ignore the haters
but I can’t afford to leave them alone
they say yelawolf aint never been in the dark
and trailerparks and made their mark
I gotta make it hot cause I was given a pardon
I gotta play the role
serial killing rap, cause I had a serial code
in every city with a cereal bowl
when I rap, peer in my soul
I’m in the light like a deer in the road
clear in control, my spirit is old
I’m hearing the Gold I’m hearing the foes, hoes
and it falls like a rock dont mean you hard like one
you want the credit for getting gutter forget it
you muthaf-ckers forgot the credit card and run
street credit won’t put bullets in ya gun
but it might put a stray bullet in your son
daughters, uncles, aunts, friends and nusiance
become tangled up when it comes undone
[Chorus]

Trae Tha Truth - Gettin’ Paid Ft Wiz Khalifa Lyrics

Trae Tha Truth - Gettin’ Paid Ft Wiz Khalifa Lyrics:

[Intro]

We blowin’ money bitch

I go hard, I go hard, gettin paid

I go hard, I go hard, gettin paid

[Chorus]

We don’t even count the money no more we just blow it

(We spend it all up)

We don’t even count the money no more we just throw it

And make ‘em pick it all up

[Trae Tha Truth]

Money strapped to my waist

Somewhere in the whip I’m in with no bass

Flooded the trap I need a new place?

Money got to go I told ‘em theres no space

Never love hoes, hoes I don’t chase

Only wear loc’s the same as my race

All I know is stunt, make a hater feel like shit to the point

that he in another place? Real talk

I-I-I aint the one but I lean on haters, looking so clean on gator

Try to jack me, I guarantee I’ll put the beam on haters

Hood n-gga, when I come to this I’m stocked up

Shit on my wrist tryna light this block up

N-gga said I got a dope man swag, take a look at these jewels

Every one of ‘em rocked up

And we still on the corner packed in

Ace town president somethin back then

Hope the slut that I’m with got insurance so

She know I’m about to run up on her back end

Like I set of bad, she was gettin’ plugged

Can take it to the streets, take it to the club

I don’t ruberband shit I got trash bags

N-ggas make it rain, I’mma make it flood

I aint gonna talk shit I’ma talk bread

I f a hater don’t like it, tell em drop dead

I’m in the hood like a fresh set of projects

Where they either rock blue or they rock red

I’m the king of the streets

Aint nobody finna take away what I came to get

Audi R8 that I came is sick, with interior the colour of a all white?

[Chorus]

We don’t even count the money no more we just blow it

(We spend it all up)

We don’t even count the money no more we just throw it

(And make ‘em pick it all up)

We don’t even count the money no more we just blow it

(We spend it all up)

We don’t even count the money no more we just throw it

(And make ‘em pick it all up)

[Wiz Khalifa]

Big weed in my joint, diss me there’s no point

Lil guy but still all my n-ggas got big heat they on point

Rollin up while I drive, engine be in the trunk

Decided in 2005 that I can f-ck any bitch that I want

Ooh, and, and and I aint trying to stunt this a two seater my bitch can’t help but ride up in the front

Ballin’ most n-ggas wont try to pick ‘em up

Throwin’ so much money you even try to pick some up

You tryin’ different stuff look at how I block em out

Smoke like a Cali n-gga even when I’m in the south

And when when my car come out the whores come out

Don’t even get on twitter no more ’cause I’m what your bitch talkin’ ’bout

[Chorus]

We don’t even count the money no more we just blow it

(We spend it all up)

We don’t even count the money no more we just throw it

(And make ‘em pick it all up)

We don’t even count the money no more we just blow it

(We spend it all up)

We don’t even count the money no more we just throw it

(And make ‘em pick it all up)

Wiz Khalifa - Phone Numbers ft Trae Tha Truth & Big Sean Lyrics

Wiz Khalifa - Phone Numbers ft Trae Tha Truth & Big Sean Lyrics:

I cop me one, cop me one for my old girl

You think she my newest bitch, she my old girl

Khalifa, a younger n-gga who handle his

Hoes get in my car, ask what the channel is

Boss shit, look that up n-gga, I handle biz

On fire, like a candle is

N-ggas be dressing off the manikin

Hmmm, and I get fresh like where them camera’s is

Better yet sandwiches, bad bitch Spanish friends

Coulda been the President, rather be the man instead

[Hook]

Now when I get paid, my checks be lookin’ like phone numbers

Now when I get paid, my checks be lookin’ like phone numbers

(You can talk shit bitch, I’m worth a million)

I’m talkin’ millions, n-gga I’m talkin’ millions

(You can talk shit bitch, I’m worth a million)

I’m talkin’ millions, n-gga I’m talkin’ millions

Time is money so I went and bought a Rolex (bought a Rolex)

Time is money so I went and bought a Rolex (bought a Rolex)

I’m talkin’ millions, n-gga I’m talkin’ millions

(You can talk shit bitch, I’m worth a million)

I’m talkin’ millions, n-gga I’m talkin’ millions

(You can talk shit bitch, I’m worth a million, whaaaaaat)

[Trae Tha Truth - Verse 2]

I’m in the hood (?)on this something corner surfing

Float, no water, my trunk is waving, I’m polar surfing

Blowing faces, I’m shittin’ on them diamond infested

Time is money, peep the wrist bitch, my time is invested

I’m still the king and I’m thugged out

Any block any club I flood it out

I aint the one for competition I’ma blow it out

I’m going hard I don’t ever plan on going out

I’m getting money, probably something you don’t know about

I stunt hard, you would swear that I was showin’ out

Don’t tell me get ‘em, I got em and I’mma throw ‘em out

And back door on these hoes that I was warning out

While I’m in this machine, convert the top

Tell them that the sky is the limit

With a four of freaks, she got her face in my lap so deep you would think

that she was hiding in it

[Hook]

[Big Sean]

Shrimp, steak, liquor and pasta

Real shit boi, these n-ggas imposters

They deserve an Oscar, Kevin Costner

Oh my God sir, what?

I got this and that and everything I want like I got a hostage, yeh

Countin’ 7 digits, no wonder why the money calling

Got ya bitch panties Niagra fallin’

Dollars cum like I f-ck in the bank

I told them I could, they tell me I can’t

They want me to trip when I’m d-cking the paint

I’m poppin’ champagne and puffin’ on dank

Shining hard, boy, these n-ggas gotta see me

My d-ck hard, your bitch is easy

(boi, boi, boi)

[Hook]

Trae Tha Truth - I'm Fly Ft. Yo Gotti Lyrics

Trae Tha Truth - I'm Fly Ft. Yo Gotti Lyrics:

This gon be the realest shit I ever wrote, so just know it's deeper than rap

It was a lot of shit that go, but now I'm bringing it back

I been a G all of my life, and tried to hold it for the best

I'm the realest nigga living, they can write it when I rest

Fuck it put me with the best, and I can stand out on my own

It's survival of the truth, and I'll be coming for the throne

Fuck being a bigger man, niggaz played the game wrong

So I played it how they played it, while remaining in my zone

These niggaz hoes, that's why they keep my name in they mouth

It ain't hard to find me, bitch nigga I'm the streets of the South

And ain't no banging over wax, nigga come see me in the hood

In the section where fake is twisted, like the W in wood

I been repping since I was 12, but now I'm 25 strong

With the family of A.B.N., running and toting some'ing chrome

I never trained to be in battle, even though I been at war

Mob made motherfucker, prolly leave you with a scar I'm the truth

This be the realest, the realest shit I ever wrote

This be the realest, the realest shit I ever spoke

All I know is, (this gon be the realest shit I ever wrote)

All I know is, that I'm gon be the truth

They better know I peep everything in the game, they got me looking at my life different

Niggaz out here thinking they can know it, if my vibe different

These other niggaz out here falsified, telling lies

Sell a couple records, now they profitized keep it real

You niggaz ain't got the credibility, to be the truth

Unless you out here living what you talking, in the booth

Everyday it be the same, niggaz know I'm in the lane

Only fucking with the killers, cause we feel eachother pain

I hit the highway with my niggaz, never toching the caine

Now they got me watching for the FEDs, bitches mention my name

Since I'm the leader of the gang, it make it hard for me to move

I'm the truth, it ain't gon be a pretty sight for me to lose

Trae bail on street shit, got it on a lock

Everytime I'm going off, niggaz done got it on the block

Never something that it's not, I only know of being Trae

And that's the truth every motherfucking day, it ain't no other way

Niggaz saying I got the name to be the truth, and I ain't even mad at em

But that expression on they face, had me taking jabs at em

This a warning shot, ever seen a nigga at his last

If you haven't, I advise you let this motherfucker pass

I ain't here to be mistaken, so respect it when I spit it

Fuck it keep it yourself, cause anyone of you's will get it

I'm a Asshole, and it's self explained by the anger

And I'm holding on a glock, that's keeping one up in the chamber

I'ma strut it like a gangsta, so my niggaz get they bang on

Hopping out the slab, Dickies sagging with my chains on

Hopping fly, cause they seen the dropper with them thangs on

Lord knows, Trae'll leave them niggaz with they brains blown

I'm in another zone, niggaz still on cloud nine

And I'm a loner, you niggaz don't need to crowd mine

Trae the Truth is what it is, niggaz know it's time

Plus I'm here to make em lay it down, 'fore I spray it down

The truth be the realest shit I ever spoke, be the realest shit I ever wrote

(this gon be the realest shit I ever wrote)

Be the realest shit I ever spoke, be the realest shit I ever wrote - 2X

This be the realest shit, I ever spoke

Even if they never see it, this gon be the realest shit I ever wrote

Pay attention, to the shit I quote

Even if they never hear it, this gon be the realest shit I ever spoke - 2X

One hundred percent real, one hundred percent reeeeeal

Heeeey, Trae let em know ooooh

This be the realest shit, that I ever spoke and wrote

This is the truth, heeeey