Testo Cold Hearted III - Meek Mill
Testo della canzone Cold Hearted III (Meek Mill), tratta dall'album Expensive Pain
Uh, yeah
I been a gangster since like five since my daddy died
Fifty mill' on my account, had to strategize
And when I got it out the mud, I wasn't satisfied
And Lord knows that I was sinnin', but I got gratified
So that shit got justified, every time we touch them pies
War with us, we test them guys
Street sweeper gon' dust them guys
Gotta watch 'em close
Some niggas snakes, don't trust them guys
My niggas said they cool, I'm like, "No, fuck that side"
It's only the mob, rep that shit like it's God
You sign up for this shit, if you switch, you gon' die
If you switch, you gon' die
'Cause I remember all them nights in my cell, I had a mill' to my name
Bills a hundred grand a month, you ain't hear me complain
I'm a G, I take my scars and I wear 'em in pain
You a flea, I cut you off if you chase the fame
You let this money come between us, I ain't barely seen ya
And when you come around, I spin you like a ballerina
Start fallin' back 'cause it got hot, shit like a jalapeño
And I been clutchin' on my Glock even though that I don't mean to
Niggas fake, I don't trust 'em, I wan' dust 'em
I peep they been on some shit, I think it's time to flush 'em
Slide back to back G-Wagons, movin' like the Russians
I'm the only thing that's poppin'
Of course they gon' discuss 'em, woah
I never thought it would come down to this
Ridin' bulletproofs and hundred rounds and shit
Millions off of rappin', I done found some shit
Deep off in the water, tryna drown some shit
I don't know where I'm goin', I just know I'ma win
And if I pray on my opps, Lord know I'ma sin
Lord know I'ma sin, yeah
And if I go to the hood, they gon' force me to kill
And if nobody gon' slide, I'ma load up and drill, that's no bap
It's no bap, mmm
I know what I gotta do
Have told me 'bout this type of shit on volume two
Yeah, it was a hard knock life, but we was mobbin' through
And they could've coupled my niggas, but they was dyin' too
I keep my Glock, one in the head
Got me layin' with this shit with my son in the bed
And I won't go to sleep 'til every one of 'em dead
It's crazy this the type of shit that go to my head
I'm hangin' 'round with billionaires
But every time that I pop out, a bunch of killers there
Yeah, it's just money, ain't no feelings here
You wrap the rope, and I'm gon' push the chair, yeah, ooh
So many lost lives
'Cause niggas couldn't see the envy comin' from all sides
You let them niggas talk to you 'bout me and you crossed sides
And when they swing them choppers
I just hope you ain't offsides
Yeah, mm
Jealousy, envy, self hate
Credits
Writer(s): Robert Rihmeek Williams, Brandon Chase Korn, Austin Schindler, Simon Gebrelul, Hunter Dean Powell
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