Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Pusha T
Pusha T
Vocals
Darhyl Camper, Jr.
Darhyl Camper, Jr.
Keyboards
Duralcha
Duralcha
Sampled Artist
Kanye West
Kanye West
Background Vocals
Rick Ross
Rick Ross
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Kanye West
Kanye West
Songwriter
Terrence Thornton
Terrence Thornton
Songwriter
William Roberts
William Roberts
Songwriter
Ross Birchard
Ross Birchard
Songwriter
Willis Norman
Willis Norman
Songwriter
Hal Ritson
Hal Ritson
Songwriter
Richard Adlam
Richard Adlam
Songwriter
Darhyl Camper, Jr.
Darhyl Camper, Jr.
Songwriter
J Hutson
J Hutson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kanye West
Kanye West
Producer
Hudson Mohawke
Hudson Mohawke
Producer
Noah Goldstein
Noah Goldstein
Recording Engineer
Vlado Meller
Vlado Meller
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

I sold more dope than I sold records You niggas sold records, never sold dope So I ain't hearing none of that street shit Cause in my mind you motherfuckers sold soap Got rich selling hope to hopeless But I'm a thinker, methodic in my motives I motivate to put my niggas in the motors No woman, no child, no witness, no Jehovahs Like Scarface but it's God's face in that mirror We was made in this image dialing in is much clearer Scoring from the heist but I wanted mine purer Aryan, blonde hair, blue eyed like the führer The judge and the jury, the jewelry mad froze Water colors on my neck, fuck rhyming when you blinding niggas We ain't the same color clarity of diamond, nigga Nah, I ain't got nothing in common which is Pain in my heart, it's as black as my skin They tipping the scale for these crackers to win No reading, no writing, made us savage of men They praying for jail but I mastered the pen Descendant from kings, we at it again Just hand me the crown, I'm active again Everything that it seems, hear my passion again Was never my dream the immaculate win I was pissin' my shorts having rich nigga thoughts Wish I had a pistol before all the friends I done fought Over night I seen a nigga go get a Carrera Two weeks later I had to be that boy pallbearer Young king bury me inside a glass casket Windex wipe me down for the life after Crack dealer living like a hoop star Black marble, white walls in my new spot Four chains, big studs, a nigga too fly Top down, tank top, I think I'm 2Pac So I'm labeled the rebel, nigga get on my level We were born to be kings, only major league teams Chasing my paper, couldn't fathom my wealth Built a school in Ethiopia, should enroll in myself Got body and mind, food for the soul When you feedin on hatred you empty, my nigga, it shows Follow them codes, ain't no love for these hoes If you slip and you fall I got you my nigga, hold on If you right or you wrong, if you riding come on By the end of this song, can't be hiding for long I seen children get slaughtered, niggas' grandmothers assaulted Throw a gang sign dare you do something about it Fuck coppin' them foams, when you coppin' the home Cop a kilo and have them people on top of your home Follow the codes, ain't no love for these hoes If you slipping you fall, I got you my nigga hold on If you right or you wrong, if you riding come on By the end of this song, I got you my nigga hold on I got you my nigga hold on, I got you my nigga hold on If you slipping you fall, I got you my nigga hold on If you right or you wrong, if you riding come on By the end of this song, I got you my nigga hold on
Writer(s): Camper, Ross Birchard, Kanye West, Henry Ritson, Terrance Thornton, Richard Adlam, William Roberts, Sample Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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