Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song It's A Beautiful Thing, artist - Roosh WilliamsDate of issue: 02.03.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
It's A Beautiful Thing |
| Realest muthafucker in the building at the moment |
| Kids are parking lot pimpin' but their whips are getting stolen |
| If you reap it then you sow it, plant the seed you gotta grow it |
| Bite the hand that writes the checks and guarantee you will get broke-en |
| Catch me on my grizzy ridin all throughout the city |
| Smoke is heavy in my lungs I feel the pressure bout to hit me |
| Shit it’s a beautiful struggle, but you move in the rubble |
| And over time you learn exactly what to do in the huddle, |
| From losing a couple of people relevant to my raising |
| To taking a gut full of punches and fucking hitting the pavement |
| I’m growin' accustomed to madness, fallin' in love with the Mayhem |
| Go season the baby back ribs, stick em in the oven and bake em |
| I’m eatin' good tonight, ain’t got no dilemmas |
| Gon' text one of my ex’s and get some V for Vendetta |
| Sippin' champagne with my dinner, fill the campaign with some winners |
| Roosh and Bronsolini fresher than the landscape out these pictures |
| Mother fucker |
| Hand up out the window, screamin death to chivalry |
| Smokin' on a sweet, what a beautiful delivery |
| Swangin' two seaters while I’m drankin' 2 liters |
| Rockin' Nike sneakers finna scoop the new Adidas |
| Baby you act like you’ve seen us, and shit you probably have |
| Backhand them like Venus, put that beat in body bags, playa |
| And at the end of the day |
| I kick my feet up on the table it’s a beautiful thing |
| Everyday you can catch me in Queens baby it’s nothing |
| Money discussion, cigars lit… |
| Gold ?? |
| sittin' on the floor like a bum, nap time |
| The blanky was a black nine |
| Dove off the top of the yacht liner |
| Perfect 10 from the Judge from China |
| Sweatpants, one leg up, St. John’s jersey |
| Artest, I’m an ar-tiste |
| See me bettin' on the dogs down in Palm Beach |
| With any amount of paper in my arms reach |
| I am that mother fucker, that’s what the cards read |
| Smoke 100 percent, you smokin' yard weed |
| Now I jump in the beemer like Jimmy Schnook |
| I’m a crook, never play by the book, you can tell by my look |
| Damn it’s been a short time comin' |
| But you can find me on the coast drinkin' port wine cousin |
| I leave the crib to the J-O |
| Hat tipped, eyes stay low, Williams on the pay roll, lady |
| She said her name but I don’t ask what she came fo' |
| I’m just tryina take her to the places that she can’t go. |
| Head |
| Covered in Kangol, swangin' the Civic, pimpin |
| I promise I’m on a mission, preparing a master plan |
| And when it comes to fruition, I bet you idiots listen |
| I guess it’s just all contingent on what they get out the man |
| But dog I’m keepin' the lettuce lit, divin' in to the wettest chick |
| Without no scuba yeah, sign the check with the feather tip |
| Make it look effortless, dust away all the evidence |
| Ever since adolescence I’ve had a magical presence, bitch |
| So lemme just rip this shit, run up on anybody |
| Deuces chucked and funky salutations to my Kimosabe |
| I’m breathin' breath, livin life up in the eagles nest |
| Keepin' it movin' just workin waitin to see what’s next |