Album: Nobody
Автор Слов: William Roberts, Steven Jordan, Sean Combs, Christopher Wallace, Ephrem Lopez, Jean Louhisdon, Billy Preston, George Johnson Jr., Karim Kharbouch
Featured_artist: French Montana, Puff Daddy, Performer: Sean Combs [Producer], Stevie J. [Producer], DJ Enuff [Co-Producer], Jiv Pos [Co-Producer], Sean "Puff Daddy" Combs [Additional Producer], Christopher Sims [Video Director], Clark Jackson [Video Producer], Missy Galanida [Video Executive Producer], Isaac Rice [Video Executive Producer], Composer: William Roberts, Steven Jordan, Sean Combs, Christopher Wallace, Ephrem Lopez, Jean Louhisdon, Billy Preston, George Johnson Jr., Karim Kharbouch, Author: William Roberts, Steven Jordan, Sean Combs, Christopher Wallace, Ephrem Lopez, Jean Louhisdon, Billy Preston, George Johnson Jr., Karim Kharbouch
Other artist videos Rap videos
[Diddy:]
You wanted to fuckin' walk around these roaches? These n**gas is roaches! These n**gas is mere mothafuckin' mortals! I'm tryna push you to supreme being! You don't wanna mothafuckin'... You don't wanna embrace your destiny! You wanna get by! You don't wanna go into the mothafuckin' dark where it's lonely. You can't handle the mothafuckin'... the pain of the mothafuckin' not knowing when the shit is gonna stop!
[Chorus: French Montana]
Mama's tryna save me,
But she don't know I'm tryna save her.
Man, them n**gas tried to play me,
Man, till I got this paper.
You're nobody til somebody kills you.
[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
‘Blast for me', the last words from my n**ga,
On the pavement, born killers, body shivers,
Drug money, dollar figures,
Hustlers movin' out of rentals, art of war is mental.
Havin' sushi down in Nobu,
Strapped like an Afghan soldier,
Nowhere to go to, so it's bang, no survivors.
Only riders on my rider, murder rate rises,
Stalkin' n**gas on their IG's, never I be,
Still solo, under armour still Polo,
No wire, on fire, my desire for fine things made me a liar, a shooter.
Gettin' high feelin' like it's voodoo,
Nine lives, SK with the cooler,
Makaveli in the ‘Rari, still B-I-double G-I-E,
I pray you smoke with me.
Go to bed with a kilo like casino,
Janet Reno, we all we got the creed of Nino,
Pretty cars in the driveway,
If you cut it then you sideways, double up, crime pays.
[Chorus]
[Diddy:]
You fuckin' wanna walk around with these n**gas? What the fuck is their culture?! Where the fuck is their souls at?! What defines you? These n**gas with these fuckin' silly looks on their faces! You wanna walk around with them or you wanna walk with God, n**ga?! Make up your goddamn mind!
[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
I'm from where the streets test you,
N**gas mix business and pleasure,
Where the cocaine measure.
The narcotics is our product,
The by-product, you walk up on me, I cock it.
New Mercedes as it peels off,
Nothing penetrates the steel doors; gang signs, see ‘em all.
I said my prayer as I'm countin' sheep,
Never really athletic but I play for keeps, do you feel me?
The mortician, the morgue fillin' with more snitches,
We kill ‘em and takin' their bitches, R.I.P.
Chinchillas on a winter night,
Black bottles when I'm feelin' like you wanna know what winners like.
And I'm never on that tour bus,
Just a decoy for n**gas, the PJ's for two of us.
Cîroc boys down to die for Diddy,
My n**gas ride for less,
Keep it real, homie, made me filthy.
Touch mine until it's even keel,
Like I'm knowin' every heathen will, closed the deal with Steven Hill.
We Magic City of the networks,
Cut a n**ga cast off, how my n**ga net works.
[Chorus]
[Diddy:]
Fuck you wanna talk about? Fuckin' jewelries and Bentley's, and Hublot's, and fuckin' art that n**gas ain't got on their fuckin' walls, and fuckin' mansions n**gas ain't got?! N**gas can't even pay the IRS, let alone their fuckin' stuff, n**ga! You gotta tell the truth, man. The truth'll set you free, son. The truth will set you free.
