Lyrics:
Tryna get rich and that cork in right
Grab me the beaker, I'll measure the white
Heat up the water drop it in pot
Baking soda and ice cubes make it
This world is flaming and blazing
Think it needs some dousing
In that holy water
I walk the line my momma showed me
But shit’s getting crazy
Tempt
P.I.G., and several other New York rappers
Jay-Z, from "Hawaiian Sophie" fame, Big Little whatever
And several other corny sounding motherfuckers
Are
be bothered by bitches that see me get rich and act different, Lil Bitch
I-I-I can't say sorry I'm making it big and I'm really not listening, Bitch
Uh uh uh yo
Harlem World gon' make me rich
Harlem World gon' take your bitch
Harlem World is the place to be
This M A Dollar Sign E
Yo
(hey)
(Ah, ah) I'm doin' rich shit (hey)
(Ah, ah) Richtivities
Poke it out, ass fat, showin' out
Goin' out, liquor shots pourin' out
Big amounts,
famous and rich
You bitch, you'll never see me complain again
Came from the bottom, was living with friends
Making it work, chasing them ends
Niggas
not, brrrr
Yeah, tell 'em it's the ROC
In New York, let Jigga rock, I'm higher than my socks
I'm twisted like my locks, big up to the Lox
I did
decline
George Orwell to come true
Big brother on my mind
Down the hill he came
Bucket o' water none
Blood dripped from his left hand
The score is three
alujah adoni, pure again in your tether
O-oo oo oo oo, whistlin' down the water
O-oo oo oo oo, the great forgiver and forgetter
I'm a-wakin' by the moon
therapeutic cat and she purr when we end
Big sur off the coast choppy waters make us men
Might meet ya maker if you going for a dip
Say a prayer for his kids
(You're a genius, June) okay (Oh, wow)
Big 14, yeah
Bitch, I'm the GOAT
Hop out the Lam', then I hop in a Ghost
(In a Ghost)
I'm posted up on that
goin' on
Back and forth with niggas when it was goin' wrong, I'd never put that on song (never)
Drinkin' water, thoughts of gettin' rich, I think
New, new new new new (wave)
It's big how it get so bright
The glitter deep made me rich
My grand sparklers did not speak
I got more bank that
with the babble, with the chrome, with the lead
Cause when it's on, then it's on, the shots flowin' through your head
I been rich I been poor I saved
want to be an artist
In this day and age
You better have strong arms
You better be prepared
To swim upstream in shark-infested waters you
Better have
catch hunter
Biko pour me holy water
Say na who the check am
Say na who the check am
Niggah make you feel am
Abeg make you tell am
If enogo need am
Flame throwing demons
Out the tailpipe
A thousand horns
A million cries
The glory of the angels
Fucking mirror eyes
A spear a sign
Holy water into wine
and a choppa (what else?)
And a desert on a dirt bike (skrrt), VLONE shirt and the Pradas (fresh)
Big nigga fresher than you, fuck you and your stylist (woah)
scames
Major sports figures in and out of rehabs
Holy war with Jews and Arabs
Recalls and cutbacks feature story go to those who gay bash
Bolemic
Tylenols, put your head and call it all
Got you drinking water, when you should be drinking alcohol
Faster than an Adderall, make you shake your Audemars
And now Ladies & Gentlemen, Lupe Fiasco
Filet mignon with my food stamps
Car cosigned by my mama
Medical card from Obama
Background check for
bitches mad (Mad)
Balmains on her ass
Booty so big got to look when she pass
I'm a let her drive the Bentley (Bentley)
Fuck it might buy her a Jag (Jag)
on more than a nic' (yeah, bitch)
My Brooklyn bitch in the Garden, while we watchin' the Knicks (yeah-yeah)
Walk your bitch like a pit', dogshit by my hip
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