Song parody of

Keys Open Doors

by Clipse

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  • English (English)
  • Français (French)
  • Español (Spanish)

Keys open doors, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Make ya skin crawl, press one button, let the wind fall Who gon' stop us? Fuck the coppers, the mind of a kilo shopper Seein' my life through the windshields of choppers I ain't spend one rap dollar in 3 years, holla Money's the least, drag a bitch by her dog collar Now ho folla', this is my ghetto story Like Cham, Ice-P is the Don Dotta Open the Frigidaire, 25 to life in here So much white you might think ya Holy Christ is near Throw on your Louis V millionaires to kill the glare Ice trays, Nada, all you see is pigeons paired The realest shit I ever wrote, not Pac inspired It's crack pot inspired, my real niggaz quote Bitch never cook my coke, why? Never trust a ho with your child At you make believe rappers I smile, ha Canals treatin' my style, like you Internet sharing my files You're my space niggaz So kill the comparison, I'm South Beach sippin' on Sara Fin' Wellfy check nigga, I never been, cook money clean through Maryland Shit, countin' just gasp at the smell of it Meet the dealer, ain't a bitch realer So you ain't gotta question why Pusha don't feel ya Now get the fuck off Keys open doors, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Yeah, check it Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Throw it on the scale, feed ya goddamn self Get it how you live, we don't ask for help, no Word on the street is you gon' love how it melt And I don't come with a pitch neither, the shit sell itself I yell re-up 'til I'm locked like ma-mia And get it cross the state with the grace of Maria Keep on toys, you gon' know us when you see us Living street tales worthy of Don Divas Keys in the floor, mistress in Dior Bitch tell me she love me, but I know she's a whore Shit could get ugly, shit she talk to the Lord now It's just what I get, it's the roses of war Fuck the bureau, rather be spending Euros And get fed grapes, fuck hoes in plurals Just like Heaven as I gaze at the mural What a piece of mind when you copy some Shapiro's Cheers to the future as we toast to life I'm preventing Miami, I'm a socialite, nigga The cars is big, the cribs is bigger The kids are happy, the perfect picture Gem star razor, the fruit of my labor And I walk with a glow, it's like the Lord's shown favor These bitches fake like the hoes on flavor But I don't mind spending, all it is is paper, yes Keys open doors, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors

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Keys Open Doors

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