Love Sosa (Prod. By Young Chop) (исполнитель: Stalley Feat. Rick Ross)
I say, I’m ridin’ on Forges – call them my skaters You know them bodies is sticky, you can’t get caught up in capers Niggas are tricky, you can’t be askin’ for favors 2-2-3 on the lickin’, and make your [bad word] go in labor Niggas hate when you winnin’, you wanna kill ‘em, I feel ya Took the top off the car, [bad word] I know my face look familiar [bad word] with my lil’ gangters, we makin’ a killin’ When you count your first million you never forget the feelin’ That when my eyes go to twitchin’, palms start to itchin’ Niggas be snitchin’, that’s when my dogs start trippin’ (Rat-tat-tat-tat, Rat-tat-tat-tat) Black belly, I bought a [bad word] you know my pockets fat More money to gain, Double-M on my chain I just redid the deal, another 20 and change I step where I please, broke [bad word] freeze Cartier bracelet, them Swisher Sweets in my jeans [Hook: Chief Keef] These [bad word] love Sosa O End or no end [bad word] with them O boys You gon' get [bad word] over Rari's and Rovers These hoes love Chief Sosa Hit him with that cobra Now that boy slumped over They do it all for Sosa You boys ain't making no noise Ya'll know I'm a grown boy Your clique full of broke boys God ya'll some broke boys God ya'll some broke boys We GBE dope boys We got lots of dough boy [Verse 2: Stalley] Still in all gold just like Mr. T Rollin’ up that Swisher Sweet Box Chevy with Diamond seats Ridin’ to this Diamond Diamonds in my pinky ring Middle finger to you hatin’ niggas That hate to see a [bad word] do his thing But I’m doin’ me, a million last year Even after doin’ that Music Manage tour for free Now all I hear is “this year is me” And I told Ross if it ain’t I’mma clique on [bad word] down on you rappers And your weak rhymes, I lost [bad word] because I kept grindin’ Man, speak honest – these weak niggas [bad word] I’mma be honest, I’m being modest Freshest [bad word] [bad word] check the closets World tour and them checks deposit New whips with no mileage, new cribs by cold harbors Bury money in my back yard while you niggas goin’ back and forth