| I’m in a jungle
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| Lions, tigers and gorillas and shit nigga
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| It’s a lot of monkey ass niggas out here too
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| 'Lotta hustle nigga
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| Rules, laws, strategy
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| 10 million dollars later I’m a blessing nigga
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| How a nigga rich but still stressing nigga
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| Glock .40, Smith &Wesson nigga
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| Streets will never ever stop testing niggas
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| Youngin' give 'em a head shot, send a message nigga
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| Part rapper, part goon, still finessing nigga
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| I believe in hustle I don’t fuck with luck
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| And it’s fuck em kill em all if they don’t fuck with us
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| Them three letters mean a lot boy, sacrifices
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| Cocaine Mafia, double check the prices
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| Niggas killing niggas like they got a license
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| Niggas crossing over like they Allen Iverson
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| Fuck that iPhone 6, they be tracking niggas
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| I’m about to get a beeper, fade to black on niggas
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| Gotti, goodnight, I’m gone
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| I be back when they quit living through phones
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| When niggas put the gram down and pick the grams up
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| You got follows but no dollars man that shit ain’t adding up
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| Nah, and all the dirt I done, all the bricks I sold
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| I can’t sleep at night, paranoid it shows
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| I be strapped on stage, fuck the award show
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| Cause I shoot this bitch up and only God knows
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| Yeah like I told you a long time ago fam, y’all gon' hold it against you.
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| I keep fighting doing this to y’all. |
| Every time I get something in the mail
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| whether it’s favorable or not from the courts, I keep putting it down because
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| y’all are my motivation. |
| I appreciate the love
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| Niggas riding gold rims and they mama po'
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| And they kill a family member for that envelope
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| I’m the Lionel Richie to these Commodores
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| We flip pies to franchising Dominoes
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| I speak for dope boys every track I’m on
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| Until this day my people never rat or told
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| Posted 20 in, I’m talking fed pen
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| The line between us both have gained so very thin
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| Amongst my boys of W.E.B. |
| Du Bois
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| Souls of black folk to hustle wasn’t a choice
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| Rap game everybody skimming off the top
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| Fuck interest as long as you pull it off the lock
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| Hoes on the fuck, haters wanna hate
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| Certified sack boy, black Ronald Reagan
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| Double M no longer that Buick Regal money
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| Nickel rock niggas so don’t make me put a kilo on it
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| Negotiating for it or either we take it
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| Niggas even shooting choppers in a fuckin' cadence
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| Fell out with some people that I still love
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| I guess that’s how it goes when it’s real blood
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| I remember counting cash standing in the trap
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| I turned my hat to the back, had a hundred stacks
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| 60 m’s later and 300 tax
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| Still losing weight with the south on my back, nigga
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| I pray you play by the rules
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| I came so close to the edge
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| Ain’t no mercy young nigga
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| It’s the jungle, locs
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| And I pray you rich forever
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| Gotti, I pray you rich forever
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| All my niggas I pray you rich forever
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| When you smokin' and you vibin' to this shit
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| I pray you rich forever my nigga
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| Hood Billionaire |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Trap Luv , by - Rick Ross. Song from the album Hood Billionaire, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп