High Rollers lyrics

by

DJ Drama


[Intro: DJ Drama & Pharrell]
Okay this today's lecture
On how it should be done
Yessir
Why I keep having to school y'all n*ggas?

[Verse 1]
Yo
Behind the door there was Gatman, who was also known for robbin'
Aquaman cooked the coke and kept the Superman saucy
A dirty n*gga that wasn't known for washin'
[?] he didn't care what it cost him
Eventually the n*gga started cookin' cre-ation nothing but the reverse of 12-B
The tumultuous life of Skateboard P
I hang with white people but you don't know me
I seen, n*ggas run down stood over and gunned down
One shot up in his arm, then he spun 'round
Now how does in front of his son sound?
And get his dog it was just one round
For the ready rock they smoke that sh*t on cans
I was rockin' flattops and rockin' slip-on Vans
Screamin' "Killa dude!", and rolling my pants up
As the ghetto b*tches mixed the neighbourhood dances up
But this wasn't a soft place
Friendship villages threw the smile off ya face
Trainin' em young, they were schoolin' 'em mane
Fifteen killer n*ggas face cool as a fan
Told them "The right bullet hole will free one's soul
Let you control the block and get a ve-hicle"
So I, started pacin' the X of my situation
Then I became the bases of, see style's translation
Sure I'm on that brothership but I started thinking color-less
Like my favorite watch but I had to get the other wrist
Reporters like "Yo, so what you done good?"
Fall back b*tch, I brought computers to the hood
[Hook]
Whether you ride or you above the law
Make money money, make money money money
Don't even try if you afraid to fall
n*gga make money money, make money money money
Keep your mommies that'll ride with the dice taped with the raw
Make money money, make money money money
Ask police state-fly keep your gangstas on call
So we make money money, make money money money

[Verse 2]
I got
Model b*tches to drive me on sixes
Condos in Paris with million-dollar pictures
Smoke like a sailor, drink tushy two-up
Suckin' my di*k because she love the way I grew up
Huh? You talkin' to me?
You gon' do what? Yes he's got the gat and he can pull two-up
Them sh*ts is mind-blowing
Where he grew up they wear rags with they eyes showin'
Four in the morning you hear the nines blowin'
Armour all on they cars to keep the shine goin'
We order cars with special features
The two-tone rose the b*tch got alopecia
Who got vitiligo, intended color cycle
White and tan and brown, call it Michael
I just might go down to the beach
Absorb the heat pick up a couple freaks
Eyes lead them between my sheets
Then eyes lead them right beneath
Downstairs right in the lobby
I'm not being c*cky
But snugglin' is not me
[Hook]

[Verse 3]
Kilos, C-notes, speedboats pe coastal
See low we smoke chocha tre ochos
That's what eighty-five percent of n*ggas envision
While the real ten percent get caught and go to prison
The other five percent them n*ggas end up missing
Probably on the coastal bellies deep sea fishing
Blowin' perfect rings out the Cuban cigar
Their daughters turn 16 get 'em Italian cars
The world is yours f*ck it how 'bout Mars?
I know your mother told ya "Aim for the stars"
Let's get right n*gga cut short the laugh and
Get in touch with high B with the half hand
The dope is opium comes from Afghan
So let's make millions and blow up like a gas can
You wanna shine don't you? Like the rocks glisten
But you ain't tryna listen, you on a f*ckin' mission

[Hook]
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