Lyrics: Ralph Severe/Jonathan Ismael Diaby
Music: Anthony Bailey/Simon Villain
Rock and Roll
Hall of famer, future hall of famer
Mr. Severe, future hall of famer
Stop playing with me
Ah, ah
Ice, Ice, quarter million real quick, ice, ice
I just ride dip, you digg
Penny in the booth, for terror feed nigga
Stop playing with it, ice
Henny, henny, henny, East Side
Boy you never made a hundred thousand dollars in a night
Li’l nigga Dolo made that shit sitting at the trap
When my agent hit me up my whole team was on Khype
Neva thought I ever make a hundred thousand dollars in a night
I went and left the ice left the hockey bag
Grabbed the mic, up upon on a stage and never looking back
I went and sacrifice everything I had for what I wanted
You, niggas can’t relate, boy your mama paid your Jordans
Ain’t nothing you deserve honey
You gotta earn it, every master had to learn honey
About the process, **** your feeling gotta swerve homie
We here for bid’ness, put your hands up in the dirt nigga
And get you going
Have you ever spent the whole night up in the trap?
Waking up the next day a hunna K up on your lap
Boy you had to break a ****ing sweat to get a bag
Hope you enjoyed all your little hyped cuz I’m a kill it fast
Is all my mama
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!
I feel like Kanye my nigga you can’t tell me nothing
And when the police comes in play my niggas ain’t seen nothing
I get the bag and I flip it cuz I’m into profit
I’m serving finz all around the city, I’m the addict
I feel like Kanye my nigga you can’t tell me nothing
And when the police comes in play my niggas ain’t seen nothing
I’m out of control out of this world
Out of my mind I need Ritalin
The devil is cold, but never I fold
Now I hear the signs they been whispering
Feeling like Hov, felling like Nas
Feel like the world finally listening