Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hold On, artist - Curren$y. Album song Pilot Talk: Trilogy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 08.06.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Jet Life
Song language: English
Hold On |
| And they still won’t let my homegirl in the suite |
| I don’t know what that’s about |
| A yard for my dogs, a crib for my main bitch, yuh |
| Yeah, yeah |
| I been the man |
| And I am still, stainless (Yeah) |
| Yeah, yeah |
| Bitches know the planes (Yeah) |
| Yeah, ugh! |
| A yard for my dogs, a crib for my main bitch |
| I been the man and I am still, stainless |
| Haters caught vapor, inhaling the anguish |
| Kill these beats, humane fashion: painless |
| Cell phone my bids to auctions, cop paintings |
| Gotta have 'em more than Caine-Loc needed them Daytons |
| Jets X Nes' Phips, crack lacerations |
| Dope cuts, motherfucker, catch up |
| Your girl eyes wandering, she wonder if that’s us |
| Heard about that Spitta stroke and she wan' be next up |
| Homie mad talking about boy when I catch up |
| Shit bound to get all messed up, and that’s so messed up |
| Let’s go rest up, I be in the cut |
| Got a can of Ozium in the truck |
| Fresh cut, word to Gucci Mane, «Photoshoot» |
| Spitta in your city, homie, send them hoes through, yeah |
| Yeah, hold on (Hold on) |
| Let me find something to roll up on |
| Baby girl, hold on (Hold on) |
| Let me find something to roll up on |
| Car in the driveway don’t mean I’m home |
| One out in front the house don’t mean I’m gone |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Start a business, mind ya own, fool (Yeah!) |
| And I stayed on my job when them niggas got lazy |
| And look how I changed them hood hoes to ladies |
| And look how I turned them hoopties to Mercedes |
| And I admit, to quit shootin' ball was kinda crazy |
| But I was too focused on getting bread, pay me |
| Now they telling all of those DJ’s to play me |
| Mama sat me down and told me all about the 80s |
| My favorite color was green, like money, since a baby |
| The niggas turn flaky, bitches turn shady |
| But no more gray days, I waved goodbye to Macy |
| Purple haze give me lazy eyes like McGrady |
| And that’s on everything, that 31st raised me |
| And that’s on everything, got Adidas in all flavors |
| Practice make perfect, perfect make paper |
| Paper take patience, and I’m still waiting |
| So it’s, «Fuck you, pay me,» I’ve been ranned out of favors |
| Yeah |
| Yeah, hold on (Hold on) |
| Let me find something to roll up on |
| Baby girl, hold on (Hold on) |
| Let me find something to roll up on |
| Car in the driveway don’t mean I’m home |
| One out in front the house don’t mean I’m gone |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Start a business, mind ya own, fool |
| Yeah, I’m just playing my position, posted like a center |
| Money on my mind, the bank account getting thicker |
| Blowing out of pounds, cases of the liquor |
| Surrounded by these bitches, I’m far from fictitious |
| Niggas claim they G, but they startin' to look suspicious |
| Hating on the planes every time my name gets mentioned |
| I don’t pay 'em no attention, I keep on twisting up |
| This purp is so sticky, it’s getting stuck to my fingers |
| Jet set, we here, hitting the game from all angles |
| Got it in a chokehold, it’s more like a strangle |
| Say I’m one of the best and I ain’t never dropped a single |
| My flow on point, you can tell from the lingo |
| Christmas sack of trees, yeah I’m smoking Kris Kringle |
| Blue cheese, sour dies' and the kush tastes mango |
| Trade keep it real, I ain’t nowhere near lame-o |
| The plane’s on the way, clear the runway and the lanes, ho |
| Yeah, hold on (Hold on) |
| Let me find something to roll up on |
| Baby girl, hold on (Hold on) |
| Let me find something to roll up on |
| Car in the driveway don’t mean I’m home |
| One out in front the house don’t mean I’m gone |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Start a business, mind ya own, fool |