Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Blessing In Disguise, artist - Rick Ross.
Date of issue: 31.12.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Blessing In Disguise |
I live just enough for the city so I get by |
Money never changed how I felt, would I risk my |
Life for a dollar, homie? |
Nah, I don’t think so |
Greed breeds jealousy, nigga, out here when getting fo’s |
Catch a nigga slipping, put a bullet in his temple |
Homie, it’s the same rules, money talks, simple my kinfolk |
Call it what I’m living like the high life |
Only if he knew what I had to do to keep my mind right |
I tell you I got 20/20 hindsight |
See it in the distance, hieroglyphics keep the rhymes tight |
My mind like, game recognize that |
Real recognize real, steel .45 strapped |
Underneath the white tee, Zimmerman get shot down |
Hero, it ain’t nothing but a sandwich, call the cops now |
Fuck the police, stop running |
White boys terrorize nigga' neighborhoods, gunning |
Down the innocent, and then the beginning ends |
You was doing 50 in the 35, the ending is |
You fit the description of the subject in this incident |
We gon' have to take you downtown for some questionin' |
Damn, a blessin in disguise if you ask me |
I was just about to hit the highway with my last key |
Could it be that maybe God is intervenes |
With my life like he did so many times in between |
A half a block away from the crime scene |
A minute earlier and that was me, think |
I’ve been knowing Ross since he was Teflon |
Same nigga now it was back then, nothing stepped on |
Dopeman, dopeman yelling |
Cook it 'til it’s rock hard, bag it up, sell it |
Aroma so loud, so loud that you can smell it |
Kept to them niggas getting caught go and tell it |
Every time I turn around, y’all got something to say about me |
But y’all don’t know a damn thing about me |
Just what you see, that’s what you judge me on |
Every time I turn around the guilty be pointing fingers at me |
Homie, I’m just trying to be all I can be |
But not for free, that’s why the fuck we roll |
I need that |
Can’t even believe this day here, my nigga |
I remember us sitting in the parking lot talking about getting money |
Cracks in the wall, standing in the puddle |
Sunny south Florida, a cold motherfucker |
Ready for a war, barely wanna talk |
Ballys on, my nigga, as they walking back and forth |
Makes you wanna hustle, take care of my brothers |
Raymond passed away, here’s something for his mother |
It never is enough, trying to show her that I love him |
We were fishing buddies, breed the dog, split the puppies |
Pictures on the wall, bitches we done raw |
Niggas getting robbed, the only shit that we can solve |
We all wanna get it, ball for a minute |
Accept collect calls, tell our dawgs that we did it |
Plenty money orders, that what uncle Kenny taught us |
Keep your face clean when you’re out here bending corners |
Always keep in mind, you fall in love a thousand times |
Regardless what we went through, I’m still right here by your side |
Artificial homies, worse than the ages |
When you parking all your cars, they wanna know the payments |
Rose petals stripping on the casket |
Baby boy done grew into a bastard |
On that lean, you know I fuck her fantastic |
Work white as Rita Ora in that plastic |
Took shots, shed tears, that’s war |
Bust bottles on yachts, stand tall |
Catch a case, don’t talk, that’s raw |
Scarface, Rick Ross: big boys |
Big boys, Scarface, Rozay, we big boys |
I need that |