Letra de Hold On
Letra powered by LyricFind
I switch flows like many can switch clothes
Call my lady the bad lady, she just switch and go
When she walk, even her switch glow
Call my lady the bad lady, she just switch and go
When she walk, even her switch glow
Nice frame, and she pose like she in Vogue
And I ain't talking 'bout the group, I'm talking the magazine
Like Martin, I have a dream, next, to get rich enough that I don't give a fuck
Have an estate, like Gatsby, party and light it up
They down cleaning my success, but I don't give a flock
Can anybody get crossed by someone you didn't trust?
(Word) Top down on the Jeep
Cuffin' on sour and the sweets
Sprinkle powder on the street
Toss the coffin in the stash
Fuck my money up, you tossing bad shots
No glass. Who cares? I'm a true Harlem nigga till I pass
Keep on topping that stick, get it down to her ass
Niggas counting me out, I was down to my last
Had to bounce back like money made off the ropes
I don't play, I don't choke, when it come at the flow
I run circles around these niggas like I'm lapping 'em
Left the club in a Sedan, like damn, too many hoes ran outta space
Started lapping 'em
Call me Sugar Jay Lenard, what's for dinner?
Roundhouse rappers, upper cut balls, no jabbing 'em
The rap game used to be lyrical
Now your name don't mean shit if you ain't digital
Tweet my mind and rhymes, motherfucking interview
But this hollow flying your body, give it the inner view
I need a few rocks, then I spend a few
If I miss something, design it in my lady (???)
A couple of jams, I been in a few
Down ass bitch, using a pencil, when all the time she holding number two
T-bone, steaks and champagne
We holding everything, it's the campaign
New York blood in my veins, but y'all can't change
I come fuck shit up and leave, like I can't pay any
Hold on to your love, baby
Just enjoy this god dick, don't go love crazy
Think he blew spur and the gut's gravy
And these niggas is meatloaf, I'm deep roast
Back off, no injury, not a bit of sympathy
Rappers out jumping, but they flappin' on pretend to be
Harder than you are, going wood, ain't no friend to me
Like, Millz, what you saw? I guess we gotta wait and see
And I ain't talking 'bout the group, I'm talking the magazine
Like Martin, I have a dream, next, to get rich enough that I don't give a fuck
Have an estate, like Gatsby, party and light it up
They down cleaning my success, but I don't give a flock
Can anybody get crossed by someone you didn't trust?
(Word) Top down on the Jeep
Cuffin' on sour and the sweets
Sprinkle powder on the street
Toss the coffin in the stash
Fuck my money up, you tossing bad shots
No glass. Who cares? I'm a true Harlem nigga till I pass
Keep on topping that stick, get it down to her ass
Niggas counting me out, I was down to my last
Had to bounce back like money made off the ropes
I don't play, I don't choke, when it come at the flow
I run circles around these niggas like I'm lapping 'em
Left the club in a Sedan, like damn, too many hoes ran outta space
Started lapping 'em
Call me Sugar Jay Lenard, what's for dinner?
Roundhouse rappers, upper cut balls, no jabbing 'em
The rap game used to be lyrical
Now your name don't mean shit if you ain't digital
Tweet my mind and rhymes, motherfucking interview
But this hollow flying your body, give it the inner view
I need a few rocks, then I spend a few
If I miss something, design it in my lady (???)
A couple of jams, I been in a few
Down ass bitch, using a pencil, when all the time she holding number two
T-bone, steaks and champagne
We holding everything, it's the campaign
New York blood in my veins, but y'all can't change
I come fuck shit up and leave, like I can't pay any
Hold on to your love, baby
Just enjoy this god dick, don't go love crazy
Think he blew spur and the gut's gravy
And these niggas is meatloaf, I'm deep roast
Back off, no injury, not a bit of sympathy
Rappers out jumping, but they flappin' on pretend to be
Harder than you are, going wood, ain't no friend to me
Like, Millz, what you saw? I guess we gotta wait and see
Letra powered by LyricFind