Testo Bet it All - Jim Jones feat. Hitmaka, Benny The Butcher & Trav
Testo della canzone Bet it All (Jim Jones feat. Hitmaka, Benny The Butcher & Trav), tratta dall'album Back In My Prime
Oh my God
I feel like somebody just need to put their hand on me
I need a prayer
Hit me!
And I can tell that these niggas still ain't used to me
I think they was waiting for me to turn to who used to be
If I drop a bag, the same niggas gone shoot for free
Hit once and miss once, then spin it back for a two for three
That brand new ghost, that's a spooky V
I'm uptown in Harlem on my rooftop like Boosie B
I'm from where the guns is drawn when the sun is gone
Nighttime, you can hear mama cry that the sun is gone
We pour champagne on the floor for everyone that's gone
I'ma make my roof fall like when the summer's gone
I can make a thunderstorm, had your whole posse wet
You can have all the money, you punk bitch, but you ain't got respect
Matters fact, you pussy like a bitch with that sloppy wet
Heavy watcher, get hot, make sure that every rock is wet
It's gon' take more than that for you to stop the set
Fully loaded stock, you can't stop a tech
Fucking fully
You know
Divide before, true hustler provide it all
Don't judge, no, I sold it all
When I was broke, I showed C-Rock, I broke the wall
Went out of purse, I sold top, no
Backed up, I used fat and all, did anything to get it all
On myself, you know I bet it all
On myself, you know I bet it all
Yo, worth a few hundred thousand, but fuck it, nigga, who countin'?
Bet it on myself for real, how I turned the whale to a fountain
Never spend your last to cop, these come, you flush the mousers
Walk me out my baby mom crib cup, with it surrounded
This one for my little girls, I promised I'd give them the world
Sold crack to my moms, they wanna know if I got morals like Hart
I Eurostep these niggas cause I'm too thorough
Got a crib in the country, luxury condo on Pearl
While it's paper, I keep gettin' a reason, they sneak this in
Street niggas seen visions of genius, then we did it
Land of the free, but could you tell me what's free in it?
I'm like, diddy, cause I got these digits from remixin'
They tryin' to tell me I'm ghetto, cause I'm wearin' precious metals
Me and Coppo, GLS 600, racin' the devil
You know how this game go, right? Gotta stay with your metal
In the streets, I was both Mr. Hyde and Dr. Chuckle
Fucking fully
You know
Divide before, true hustler provide it all
Don't judge, no, I sold it all
When I was broke, I showed C-Rock, I broke the wall
Went out of purse, I sold top, no
Backed up, I used fat and all, did anything to get it all
On myself, you know I bet it all
On myself, you know I bet it all
You know
Divide before, true hustler provide it all
Don't judge, no, I sold it all
When I was broke, I showed C-Rock, I broke the wall
Went out of purse, I sold top, no
Backed up, I used fat and all, did anything to get it all
On myself, you know I bet it all
On myself, you know I bet it all
Credits
Writer(s): Carl E. Mccormick, Christopher J. Ward, Joseph Guillermo Jones Ii, Jeremie Scorpio Pennick, Travis Daniel Lashley
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