Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cream , by - Meek Mill. Song from the album Cream, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 09.07.2015
Record label: Velocity
Song language: English
Cream |
| The revolution shall be televised |
| This year it’s all about us so fuck the other side |
| Gotta get killed on camera for us to come alive |
| Well shit we dead already from all this homicide |
| In my cell hangin' from a rope |
| Where you get less time for rape than for sellin' dope |
| When you get the same time for dope then you do a murder |
| Innocent 'til guilty, guilty the verdict |
| Before you even started that Harley, no we ain’t notice |
| Cause we was goin' to war with ourselves over that coca |
| And they was tryna hurt us, lock us so far in the mountains |
| Couldn’t get no service and our families couldn’t service us |
| Fightin' a silent war with a silencer |
| Like racin' a Lamborghini with a Challenger |
| And the feds gon' follow us |
| Label us as terrorists and then they drop bombs on us |
| And we turn to media, they lie to us |
| Nobody really speakin' on them courtrooms that bodied us |
| Labeled us as hooligans, we trappin' and we movin' it |
| Kids barely eatin' at that table with that tuna fish |
| Breakfast and lunchtime Mama ordered the noodle dish |
| Dinner time I was on the corner, me and Lucifer |
| Who you s’posed to call when the cops the ones shootin' you? |
| Nobody |
| Talked to the Shmurdas and I told 'em keep their head up |
| And when you touch down, stay focused and get your bread up |
| Cause when you’re gettin' to it the people be gettin' fed up |
| They buildin' brand new jails for us, don’t make your bed up |
| Use your head, dog, and beware |
| Certain niggas just ain’t good for you dont bring them near ya |
| I’m young, black, and I get money, my swag serious |
| America’s worst nightmare, I’m what they’re scared of |
| Fresh back home, they had to sit me down |
| I come back home, they talkin' Nicki now? |
| I spit like a drummer that hold 50 rounds |
| And for my walkthroughs it cost 60 pounds |
| Of Sour D, Hollywood, I should be |
| But that hood shit bring the hood out of me |
| I be on the 'gram like I hit the lottery |
| Buyin' every car, every house I see, tryna be |
| A gangsta, I was tryna be a king |
| You’re tryna score a point, I was tryna get a ring |
| Couple niggas got happy, heard I was in the bing |
| 'Til they let me out my cell, I jumped right up in that sink |
| Balenciaga red interior, they’re inferior |
| I made a couple milli in jail, I’m dead serious |
| Monkey ass hoes like George and head curious |
| Flow so wavy man I should’ve been an aquarius |
| I’m talkin' to Hov on the jail call |
| Get so many letters that they thinkin' it’s mail fraud |
| When I fell on the money they said that I fell off |
| We got like, 6 mansions, 12 lofts |
| 3 condos, any apartments? |
| Hell naw |
| Just all penthouses, nigga I’ve been 'bout it |
| Gets in, gets out it, like it’s a robbery |
| I came up from the bottom and ain’t no stoppin' me nigga |