Tonart: D# minor
Intro 1
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Verse 1
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you niggas ain't fuckin' with me
Verse 2
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[Chorus] How dare these niggas
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try
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to fuckin' hate on me
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Come out and make records sound just
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like me
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But nobody does this here quite like me
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Now let me tell a little
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something 'bout me
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Pops tags, things fresh to death like me
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Who pulls more whips out
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the stash than me
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Y'all bitches wanna ride, c'mon
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it's on me
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I guess it's my time,
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all eyes is on me
Verse 3
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Man everybody wanna rhyme
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like Rule, sing like Rule
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Talk some shit to get they
Papers, haters never pay they dues
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Always got their feet in
Walk with me, or ride this old Bentley
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With the rim s you can sit in
Or the Enso with them
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TV's that's hidden
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I stay in menages with various
women
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Huh, I'm just kiddin' that's
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not how I'm livin'
The realest, the nigga in the realest state
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I got real estates in different states,
go figure
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Cause I ain't singing
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you'se a "Gold Digger"
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But bitches, "you ain't fuckin'
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with no broke niggas"
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That's why I ride, ain't you
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see I put you on the CLS
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We on the point your voice sound like sex,
yes
There's no real way to stop me,
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that's why y'all copy
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I know you niggas ain't
[Chorus]
Verse 4
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Yea, I know, one more gin, bitch you
better come on in
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Relax a while,
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sip on hypno and henn
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I like your style, you're so old school
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In them Sasson Vidals, fifty
four eleven
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Reebok classics Remind me
Niggas was playing with blocks
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like little kids and
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Even though we men
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we still big wheelin'
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Still cop cribs, six beds,
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four baths, high ceilings
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All of the art of drug-
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dealin' cause every mil
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Is two for me, when it's all tax- free
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Pray for God's children,
all except for me
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I'mma walk in the path the
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Lord has paved for me
One foot at a time,
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niggas follow my footsteps
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Put the world on my shoulders,
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leave one set of footprints
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Man, y'all motherfuckers can't
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stop me, that's why y'all copy
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I know you niggas ain't
[Chorus]
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I know what a nig ga that do
Verse 5
right, can't do no wrong
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And everything's alright,
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till everythin' goes wrong
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No part to piss in, no
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shoulder to cry on
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You get to thinkin' why can't
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we let by- gones be by- gones
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Rule the icon, who killed the industry
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like iPods
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Had these niggas
runnin' like track stars
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Except runnin' backwards when I sit
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back rollin' the backwoods
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Loadin' my trey- deuce for them
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nig gas that act hood
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Ridin' my six- deuce uptown,
I'm so hood
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Bitches love the coupes when them
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Money long, I'm putting from
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the green like T- Woods
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Hard white is not to be
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confused with white good
White gold should never be perceived
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as platinum
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And cubic- zirconium never
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gon' shine like diamonds
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Cause, no matter how hard they copy,
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they still not me
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Y'all bitch niggas ain't
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fuckin' with me
Outro 1
[Chorus]
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Wie hat dir der Song gefallen?
TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteBbm Fm Db Ebm Ab
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