| I’m selling peace on Earth, God
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| I’m trying not to be so worked, God
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| For what it’s worth, I’m overtime
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| Grind until the sun up
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| Jewel polishing, tryna stay an honest man with my come up
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| Niggas keep testing me, I’m tryna put these guns up
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| They got me looking like a redneck, looking for trespassers
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| All these demons in my way, I’m tryna brush past them
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| The psychology of armed robbery excites them
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| Indictment for my writing did more than enlighten
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| Just ask them, did some fighting on the way up
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| Lost a couple partners, now I’m just past ten
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| And one of them going in he might catch a L or
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| Get a one to ten, I’m just tryna reel him in
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| Keep him safe from this jungle
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| But it’s hard to keep these apes out the rumble, I was tryna make amends
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| Stack a couple ends
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| Cause there’s no ends to this life that we live so I’m on my Jet ish
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| Shout to Curren$y, a nigga straight respect it
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| Just enjoy this life, fall in love, lay back and enjoy your wife
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| And think twice before you throw the dice
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| Think twice before you throw the dice
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| Think twice before you throw the dice
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| Uh, heavy is the wrist that carries the crown
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| My Rolex represents the work that I put down
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| I hustled hard for this
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| Getting it, riding 'round, soft top '76
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| Become a legend in the south, nigga we the shit
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| Jet Life got yo bitch’s fingers hella sticky from the doobie twisting
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| Fool if you ain’t up on things
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| I know you seen me and Stalley exiting that plane
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| Jamaica living playa, I’m too high for you to aim at
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| Laid back, ordering some wings in my wave cap
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| Nigga, I live like my dead homeboy still here
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| Order a hundred bottles and sit 'em by empty chairs
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| It’s just money, we hustling, we gon' get more of it
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| I counted a hundred grand this morning
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| Them niggas gon' hate and them hoes gon' - you know
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| Paint the perfect picture with the perfect scriptures
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| They call me the perfect enigma
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| The haters call me the example of a perfect stigma
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| But to be quite perfect, I ain’t perfect nigga
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| I mean I could be perfect wit' ya
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| But I’d rather puff the swisher and listen to some Mister
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| Styrofoam, no glasses
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| Codeine poured thicker than molasses, I’m leaning when I’m blowed
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| I’m just speaking what I know, they say I walk like a show
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| Motion picture, full feature
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| I’m numb to what’s going on, no emotions, hard to reach him
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| And I keep my circle small so I’m hard to leech from
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| And I’m living like Robin Leach, son
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| Lifestyles of the rich and famous, I ain’t leased one
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| All them Chevys mine and completely done
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| Rallies dualies and the T-tops when I need to see the sun |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hammers & Vogues, artist - Curren$y. Album song Savage Journey To The American Dream, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп