| Some things you have to see for yourself
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| Francis Ford, fuckin' with them hoes
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| You niggas still can’t afford
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| Made so many mistakes I know that my niggas relate
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| Just to rattle my cage, so much shit they sat on my plate
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| She know me through records, but she don’t know me too well
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| All this game is for sale was priceless, I keep for myself
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| Shots fired, man expired in his Jordan 3's
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| Small talk, turn that page, that’s all they ever read
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| You graduated, you still unemployed
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| Taken for granted, love is null and void
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| No longer one and few, young Langston Hughes
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| Jewish intuition, I’m followin' cues
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| Niggas own Versace, don’t know Nikki Giovanni
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| Your paper chasin', can’t see that it’s runnin' from you
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| My homies from the block, they labeled me cunnin'
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| No excuse for my success, so they say I’m Masonic
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| I keep it one hundred, fuck her, I keep the car runnin'
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| How she fuck on the back, that’s to keep food in the stomach
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| Look at me, look at me
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| Realest shit you niggas ever seen
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| Look at me, look at me
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| Look at me, look at me
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| Playin' for keeps, and that’s just to say at the least
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| Had a few seizures, nigga refused to get me some sleep
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| I let shit slide, I should see the sparks
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| Now I think about my moms when I jot these songs
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| I think of certain niggas when I mention guns
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| Heavy artillery, death to enemies number one
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| Francis Ford, flows you niggas can’t ignore
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| Shoppin' with them hoes you niggas can’t afford
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| Belaire Rose, they thought I’d go gold, wouldn’t sell anything more
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| They thought I’d fail, they thought I’d fold
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| Go to hell, any nigga wanna buy my soul
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| Double-M, extend my hand, I see you stumblin'
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| Francis Ford films budget, double-forty M’s
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| Godfather money, filmin' part four again
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| Butterball, Magic City, so you know it’s him, me
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| Look at me, look at me
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| Realest shit you niggas ever seen
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| Look at me, look at me
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| Look at me, look at me
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| I blaze J’s, fuck the Dutch slave trade
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| Fuck a net worth when I’m just trynna maintain
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| Tennessee, I felt like Mr. Wendal, nigga
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| When ain’t nobody starin' out that window with you
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| Obligated, surrounded, when you are often hated
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| Left a bag of that dope when they flew off to Vegas
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| It was written, Mr. Jones, a different picture
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| Strong as bones like Corleones, the realest figures
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| Speakin' in native tongues, me, myself and I
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| Through Michael Rapaport eyes, it’s just a lost trial
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| But I see the gems, I see the stars
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| Diabetes and all, your name will carry on
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| I pray this legacy is what is left of me
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| Corporate cannabis givin' me leprosy
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| Look at me, look at me
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| Double-M, fuckin' G
|
| Look at me, look at me
|
| Realest shit you niggas ever seen
|
| Look at me, look at me
|
| Look at me, look at me
|
| Look at me, look at me |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Family Ties , by - Rick Ross. Song from the album Hood Billionaire, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп