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