Correction Paroles Final Destination par Ransom & Nicholas Craven

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Paroles

We cracked the code on the Matrix, it's time to face it we striving with no budgets
They want our masters, they tryna buy it, they won't budge us (Nah)
I hit the charts but the major bloggers they won't covet
Thanks to Rory, Parks and Mal, I'm a giant that Joe judges (woo!)
Huh, they gon' defy us and so what us (What?)
But if this carries on we gon' riot for four summers (Yeah)
Business is a joy when you figure out what your stocks worth
Tryna find who you are, just eliminate who you not first (Real sh*t)
My life is better but the block's worse (Okay)
So Rest in Peace Shah, 'causе seeing you laying up in that box hurts (R.I.P.)
How could we ever think wе not cursed
Baby mother pregnant during a SWAT search
We just lucky she got birth
Speaking of my daughter (daughter), the older she gets it's harder to keep her from the aura (Uh huh)
It's deeper than the Torah

When I told you I think it's time that we split ways (Pain)
Then I told you I grinded just like a sick slave, tryna get these bricks shaved (Remember?)
Yeah, that's two thousand and six way back when Stacks had the two tone Boxster with big plates
Switch dates
Now we in the present (We here)
I told you your darkest hour is only sixty minutes (Okay)
You thought that I was finished (Never)
A span of twenty years been in this business (Uh huh)
I gave you all the real, that's because I am the realest
It's been a couple of years but my whole career I been telling y'all what this game 'bout
N***as act like it's fourth and some inches and pull they chains out (Ha!)
Haters gon' talk, let me simplify and explain doubt
N***as'll beg you first then'll bite yo' a** with the same mouth (Facts)
D'Angelo stuck on that stained couch
Barksdale 'cause every bar's real, y'all n***as drown up in a 'caine drought
I'm like the Irishman before he paint house
Get lost like Hoffa, the young Sinatra sending shooters to your casa (Yeah)
Maneuver like a mobster (Mobster)
Grand Marnier cuvee, the grouper with the lobster
Little hookah with the vodka (Muah!)
Pristine judge of character, I see through your grins
I got love for a lot of folks I'll never speak to again (Uh huh)
Sometimes your friends'll hate for seeing you win
Bullets'll squeeze in your brim
Your soul'll flutter like a leaf in the wind

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