Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Greed, artist - Ransom. Date of issue: 27.05.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Greed |
| Turn your back and they’ll shove a knife in your ribs |
| A father raisin' a gun while his son is fightin' a bid |
| Ironic, 'cause he ain’t really have nothin' nicer to give |
| You live the life that you love, then you’ll love the life that you live |
| So what’s the price if you did love life, but can’t afford a club night |
| With champagne taste? |
| Money is Bud Light |
| You tellin' me to be negative, that’s your blood type |
| It’s hard to sleep in a bed you made when the bugs bite |
| I’m sleepwalkin', I come outside when the streets darkn |
| Try not to oblige when you hear greed talkin' |
| I’m Frank Whit, it’s no plea bargain |
| King of my city, I’ma serve every damn fiend that I see walkin' |
| Don’t be threatened, I teach lessons |
| Don’t call me king, 'cause every king suffered a beheadin' |
| It’s seven deadly sins, better preach, reverend |
| I sever limbs with this sweet weapon, you better keep steppin' |
| I’m takin' off, I’ll see you all soon |
| What’s a mogul without his money? |
| A soldier without his war wounds |
| I’m hieroglyphics in a lost tomb |
| These are the facts, if you the richest in here, then you in the wrong room |
| Shuckin' and jivin' get you called coon |
| Yeah, we all goons, you a cartoon |
| You play a shark? |
| Cool, I can get you harpooned |
| I talk to 'em like Malcolm under a dark moon, harsh tunes |
| You want the smoke? |
| I got all fumes |
| Yeah, a sharp broom like what God use |
| In too deep, no time to argue when your skin is a dark hue |
| Little man got his heart bruised and I’m John Q |
| Had to breeze when them arms drew, yeah |
| Known to squeeze like a mongoose, alarm you |
| Indeed for this greed, niggas harm you |
| Think it’s time that you leave, don’t believe but I warned you, it’s on you (Uh) |
| Invest our spendin' in cars and bikes |
| Collect our stimulus stars and stripes |
| We left our women with scars and gripes |
| In death I’ll reminisce starvin' nights |
| Mama sent me to help out Minnie to borrow some rice |
| Them jail bars imminent, guards and fights |
| Them Ls authentic as Karl Kani |
| And they trendin' as Telfar Clemens and Charleston White, uh |
| True anomaly, deep a view as optometry |
| Numerology speakin' through this autonomy |
| While the leaders confused |
| Tell Thomas MacDonald we don’t agree with his views, but we approve of his |
| honesty |
| That Beretta too deadly, left his head in shambles |
| Packin' federal weaponry, shovelin' mega manholes |
| Rather eat in the culture, never even to short ya |
| Who celebrate when they see you ate with seven candles? |
| Bahamadia or Heather B? |
| Every queen should never have to question her pedigree, that’s Kevin Samuels |
| Orisha Orula to a kemetic G |
| My queen, a better you is a better me, that’s Tevin Campbell |
| Why the labels embellish it, why they never cancel? |
| Propagate it to scalin' it while they sellin' scandal |
| While the reverend rambles, Noreaga probably a better commando |
| Schwarzenegger was Reagan’s Rambo |
| Your blow stepped on, less shown, said, known |
| Your connect in the Rolodex, Gomez Jones |
| He with three of his groupies, give him co-ed chrome |
| Leave him with these lil' Uzis, give him four headstones |
| Gold chain, sneakers, choose your battle in Juice WRLD |
| Where Juice WRLD shallow and Cobain’s deeper |
| The dope game’s ether, cocaine beepers |
| Coltrane peaks the Mulsanne speakers |
| The bro can’t reach us, the woke can’t either |
| Sleepin' with Soul Train divas, we post sangria |
| I speak for my Keishas, my no-name chicas |
| Our folks ain’t teach us, our dough can’t free us |
| You thousandnaire at the register, never popped a tag |
| Your concierge never helped you out with your shoppin' bag |
| You not a real goon, fam, you never got to pass |
| You not a real DOOM fan, you never copped a mask |
| Been two-steppin' since Jay-Z was yellin' «Holla back» |
| Produced records for Shady, but never got the plaque |
| What I will retort is highly enforced |
| Invite me to war, smile in the court, then buy me a Porsche |
| Hoes colder than Debbie Allen, I’m mighty divorced |
| Those po’er than Edgar Allen who tried me before |
| Who likely a corpse |
| Who reppin' the culture where Megan’s toes is of lesser importance than Kylie’s |
| divorce |
| Uh, the psychology of a meth head |
| Titty-lickin' a Masi' like I’m tryna be breastfed |
| My biggest fear is bein' sick with a problem |
| My children ain’t proud of me, givin' an apology from my death bed |
| Greed’ll turn a friend into an enemy |
| Turn a positive energy to a jealousy |
| You better be aware, if you don’t wanna pay the penalty |
| Don’t play the game if you don’t care about your legacy |
| You tellin' me, «Check, check out my melody» |
| Can’t be my dog if I ain’t sure about your pedigree |
| Hope these words are stickin' to you like Velcro |
| Money can’t buy you love, but it buys you everything else, though |
| Woah |