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(Pusha T:) Re-Up Gang Pusha |
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(Looking for trouble, trouble, trouble) |
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But you found it muthafucker |
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Yes |
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All I see is black roses, drug dealer poses |
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shoveling that devil's angel up they noses |
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never let jail turn my shine into Moses |
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couldn't cleanse my soul with them civil rights sposes |
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panoramic roof, under glass like a coaster |
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backseat driver, racial slurs at the chauffeur |
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killian loafers, Mikimoto chokes her |
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Photo-op this priceless, frame our wanted posters |
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the audacity, war brings casualty |
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bitch have my son before I face that tragedy |
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ugh, I order hits, she orders mahi |
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R.I.P. Vivian Blake, shout out the shower posse |
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Gone!!! |
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(You seek out problems) |
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(Looking for trouble, trouble, trouble) |
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But you found it motherfucker |
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(Kanye West:) I'm here, it's the misogyny |
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bad bitches massaging me |
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sometimes we lowered our standards at the colleges |
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so please don't judge me, ugh, for the following |
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fat bitches swallowing, skinny bitches modeling |
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take of that Givenchy and let's get raunchy |
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I have your face looking all Captain Cruncy |
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the devil stay testing |
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'cause when you chase the pussy it's a sin |
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but if it falls in your lap it's a blessing |
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soon as I got salad, I spent it all on dressing |
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French, to be exact, that Balmain was impressive |
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had used the main leathers (leathers, leathers, leathers) |
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(Cyhi The Prynce:) Cyhi, Cyhi, Yeah |
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boy, we looking for trouble |
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maybe if we wasn't black then we wouldn't have struggled |
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player, all I got is trap niggas and crooks in my huddle |
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they cook and I smuggle |
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got twenty pounds of kush in the duffle |
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so I'm running through them circles, |
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boy I'm looking like Knuckles |
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look at my knuckles, got the hook in 'cause niggas was looking |
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I've tooken some whoopings, so trust me, dog I'm good for a scuffle |
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don't be mad I whooped your ass 'cause I've tooken a couple |
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feds asking niggas questions but I wouldn't rebuttal |
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'cause I'm Jake Gyllenhaal, I'm in the hood with the bubble |
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with a tall model broad like I took her from Russell |
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didn't play the cards I was dealt, I made the dealer re-shuffle |
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Royal Flush, so kiss my royal nuts |
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ain't nothing silver spooned, I came from the soil, bruh |
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but now I'm eating off of rather yellow gold |
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exquisite ravioli with some happy yellow hoes |
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but don't get it confused when I rap these mellow flows |
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'cause all my Titos got bricks like a yellow road |
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(Big Sean:) GOOD, I do it |
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B.I.G. Sean Don nigga |
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(But you found it mutherfucker) |
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bitch |
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I'm in, that no-smoke sec' rolling motherfucking ounces |
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marijuana mountains, drinks you're not pronouncing |
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three chains on, I don't need no bouncers |
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nothing less than a G stack's in my trousers |
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new double-D's smashed in her blouses |
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fuck a hotel, my nigga we rent houses (houses) |
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my nigga, we rent houses |
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so many wedding rings lost in them couches |
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I'm just a Westside lover |
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I leave females in my sheets and all my feelings in a rubber |
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this is showtime, showtime, boy |
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I hope you set the DVR |
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stacking money face to face, dish it, look like CPR |
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'Ye invited me a seat to sit at the throne |
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so now I'm snapping like yo' ass just finished a poem |
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does he sound like 'Ye, Jay, or Drizzy Drake? |
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meanwhile, I'm chilling with all these niggas, counting all this money you ain't |
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consider yourself lucky to see a legend before the prime |
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a killer before the crime, a BIG before the Dime |
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greet me wit a middle finger when you see me |
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it's cool, 'cause I can't see yo' ass from this side of the TV muthafucker |
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(J. Cole:) Hey, Cole World, make way for the chosen one |
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what you now hear is putting fear in all the older ones |
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down played me to downgrade me like they don't notice son |
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your shoes too big too fill? I can barely squeeze my toes in 'em |
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fucking hoes while teaching niggas to hold your sons |
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this the rap Moses, scratch that, Mary and Joseph's son |
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high as fuck with a cold flow and a loaded gun |
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never say I'm better than Hov, but I'm the closest one |
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heard you looking for trouble, what, I'm supposed to run? |
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yo' bitch invited me inside her, ain't I supposed to cum? |
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got niggas that'll blow your tee off, put a hole in one |
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now you outside of heaven's gate, fronting like you know someone |
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talking hard, but y'all still ain't push me |
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they say you are what you eat, and I still ain't pussy |
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fuck it, everybody can get it |
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when you're this hot, everybody's a critic |
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but when you're this high everybody's a midget |
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all this mean mugging from niggas that mean nothing |
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could it be my position is one that you dreamed of? |
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went from quarter to broke to half past rich |
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with my bad ass bitch |
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and you don't want no problems on some math class shit |
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so check the young genius out |
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fuck the World, bust a nut, and let my semen sprout |
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I thought that real shit is what you been fiending 'bout |
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what you been praying for? What you been screaming 'bout? |
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ironic you been sleeping on the one that you been dreaming 'bout |
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