Cold Hearted III

Uh, yeah I been a gangster since like five since my daddy died Fifty mill' in my account, had to strategize And when I got it out the mud, I wasn't satisfied And Lord knows that I was sinnin', but I got gratified So that shit got justified, every time we touch them pies War with us, we test them guys Street sweep, we gon' dust them guys Gotta watch 'em close Some niggas snakes, don't trust them guys My niggas said, "They cool", I'm like, "No, fuck that side" It's only the mob, rep that shit like it's God You sign up for this shit, if you switch, you gon' die If you switch, you gon' die 'Cause I remember all them nights in my cell, I had a mill' to my name Bills a hundred grand a month, you ain't hear me complain I'm a G, I take my scars and I wear 'em in pain You a flea, I cut you off if you chase the fame You let this money come between us, I ain't barely seen ya And when you come around, I spin you like a ballerina Start fallin' back 'cause it got hot, shit like a jalapeño And I been clutchin' on my Glock even though that I don't mean to Niggas fake, I don't trust 'em, I wan' dust 'em I peep they been on some shit, I think it's time to flush 'em Slide back to back G-Wagons, movin' like the Russians I'm the only thing that's poppin', of course they gon' discuss 'em, woah I never thought it would come down to this Ridin' bulletproofs and hundred rounds and shit Millions off of rappin', I done found some shit Deep off in the water, tryna drown some shit I don't know where I'm goin', I just know I'ma win And if I pray on my opps, Lord know I'ma sin Lord know I'ma sin, yeah And if I go to the hood, they gon' force me to kill And if nobody gon' slide I'ma load up and drill, that's no bap It's no bap, mmm I know what I gotta do Hov told me 'bout this type of shit on volume two Yeah, it was a hard knock life, but we was mobbin' through And they could've cuff my niggas, but they was dyin' too I keep my Glock, one in the head Got me layin' with this shit with my son in the bed And I won't go to sleep 'til every one of 'em dead It's crazy this the type of shit that go to my head I'm hangin' 'round with billionaires But every time that I pop out, a bunch of killers there Yeah, it's just money, ain't no feelings here You wrap the rope and I'm gon' push the chair, yeah, ooh So many lost lives 'cause niggas couldn't see the envy comin' from all sides You let them niggas talk to you 'bout me and you crossed sides And when they swing them choppers, I just hope you ain't offsides Yeah, mmm Jealousy, envy, self hate --- Cold Hearted III - Meek Mill