Lyrics Can't Get Enough - Marco Polo, Big Twins, F.T.

Can't Get Enough

I feel on top of the world, I’m never coming back
Only to kill all the rats
I want all the hot girls, Twin want to rip
Always gotta gas up a chick
All of my goals and dreams make it real ritz
To do this day I don’t really have shit—life's a bitch
Move a brick, put some food on my table
I never was stable, my brain is too fucked up
Went to the club drinking all liquor up
They shoutin' us out, they know the name
The grimy one, most of them niggas think I’m insane
Lames get popped up with two Glocks
I keep rolling up, yo dun I can’t stop
I’m ‘bout paper, I gotta get it
If I don’t get it somebody getting stitches
One thing on my mind, I know gon' live it
It’s the drugs, it’s the rush, it’s the love, it’s the lust
It’s the money and the fame, and I never get enough
It’s the liquor in my cup, it’s the weed in my dutch
It’s the reason we gotta get it, fiends what they want
It’s the drugs, it’s the rush, it’s the love, it’s the lust
It’s the feeling that you feel when there’s no one you can trust
It’s the liquor in my cup, it’s the weed in my dutch
It’s the reason we gotta get it, fiends what they want
You can try and walk in my shoes, it take miles
Living this lifestyle where niggas take vows
When I look out the window all I can see is gray clouds
Fake niggas congregating, niggas straight clowns
Like you working in a circus underneath a tent
Smoking up the money that they gonna need for rent
I tell them no I ain’t perfect, but I don’t pretentd
So hit me on Facebook, that’s only if we’re friends
I know I be a lot of places and do a lot of things
So father forgive me for up and moving out of Queens
I know to some I’m just a rapper, say I raise seeds
All that really means is that the guns is out of reach
How dare a nigga front on me or my team
Ain’t no way in hell you gon' catch me fighting
Roll around in the mud, what the fuck I got slugs for that
Like, fuck a twenty-five-to-life, pass the judge for that
I got the mind of a genius, the voice of a monster
Looks like a young boy, the heart of a hustler
Arms of a gangster, thoughts of a soldier
Sober when I’m fucked up, high when I’m soldier
Haters on my shoulders, tell ‘em haters is over
Tried other drugs but I’m dedicated to doja
You talk about guns but you hesitating to load ‘em
I’m just having fun, getting paper, drinking, and smoking
Don’t listen to them, they just hate me ‘cause I’m rolling
I got a disease, my pockets is looking swollen
Money is the cure, keep stacking until you holding
Cars, women, and clothes, music, movies, and clothing
Groupies, cuties with booty with Fugees, give me a Trojan
I just knew I could do ‘em, screw ‘em, and get ‘em open
I don’t love ‘em, I hug ‘em, fuck ‘em just for the moment
Everybody run, there’s ‘bout to be an explosion