Lyrics Hard in Da Paint - Meek Mill

Hard in Da Paint

Ay Rug
See these niggas already know what it is with me
I go hard in the paint
We ain’t even got to talk about that
Philly in this bitch, heard that
Rollie on my wrist brighter than my future is
Shorty standing there ass fatter than Rasputia is
I play for the dream team, hang out with the coolest kids
Watch out for my Louie belt cause that’s right where my Ruger is
I go hard in the muthafuckin' paint nigga
Leave you stankin' nigga, what the fuck you thinkin' nigga?
Five presidents on that presidential Lincoln nigga
Gold presidential out the window middle finger nigga
Fuck 'em all that’s how I feel
Shitting on these niggas without a deal
My money right I’m super strapped
Talking all that hammer shit where your toolie at
Ask around the town we be doing that
All that white and sour diesel we be moving that
That’s word to my thirty-six O’s
I’m still the same nigga with the thirty-six flow
In thirty days I’m trying to fuck thirty rich hoes
I’ll still be spitting that flamerz like thirty-six stoves, woah
North side 'til the death of me, definitely
Camero with the black stripe, referee preferably
I be feeling myself and I ain’t on no Ecstasy
But the groupies is and you can tell by how they molested me
She gon' suck my dick, she gon' suck it too
She gon' fuck Omelly, and she gon' fuck the crew
Now she fuck with me, she don’t fuck with you
And that’s crazy dawg you know that was your fucking boo
That’s the reason why you hating
Let the streets say what they want because I’m caking
Shout out to all of the niggas that thought that I wouldn’t make it
They the fakest ones hating while I was in the basement
Where I’m from getting money be the object
I get mine putting fire to the Pyrex
Fuck a diss track I bring it to you direct
I kill you then the witness die next
44 Bulldog is a 5x
You never progress if you only side bet
I’m trying to kill two birds with one stone
I just grabbed two birds but one gone
I supply it well that’s my clientele
I fire shells if any one of my clients tell
They say its a long line to hell
But I’ma either get rich or I’ma die in jail
Until then I’m only trying to gain revenue
Razor blade in a plate full of residue
'96 Impala is heaven blue
Being broke like you is what I’ll never do
Purple juice and them Xans got me sleep walking
She say niggas like me she don’t see often
And I don’t care if he shot I just keep sparking
I make niggas throw towels and make peace offerings
I got two baby mommas and we don’t speak often
I just give them bank rolls and tell them keep walking
I just show a bitch money I don’t keep talking
Then she slob on my knob like she retarded
Sour D 4 grams stuffed in the Dutch
Fifty grand rubber band tucked in the cut
Two bitches four hands touching my nuts
Then I give them long dick touching their gut
If money is the topic I get it like Floyd
I be OG, moving grams of the
If I don’t know niggas my hand on toy
Cause I’m a fucking shooter, Brandon Roy
My nigga Cass got the Bent I need the 550
I only blow good smoke the L’s 550
You not a real connect if you can’t supply fifty
My cousin Nas get half cause he’ll die with me
O.B.H be the set and we gon' get ours'
A couple niggas got shot trying to take ours
I was in the crack house with eight vowels
You was like Eminem off of eight mile
In your shitty house writing rap songs
I use to run in niggas house with the mac on
I guess you only need one mic like Nas
I’ll take a full pound in a white pie
Glock 30 compact that’s the right size
on the stove watch the white rise
I’m talking brick sales get your order up
I dry cook mine I don’t like it watered up