Good Kush (Triple C Mix) lyrics

by

Pusha T


[Intro]
All I keep is real n*ggas round me
I know real n*ggas that live that life
I know real n*ggas that get that money
I know real n*ggas that talk that talk
Young n*gga, old soul
I'm bout to bring out my n*gga Young Breed
Listen to me

[Verse 1: Young Breed]
I'm on that good kush and alcohol
b*tch I think I'm Al Capone
I do what the f*ck I want
You do what the f*ck you told
You a house n*gga, I house n*ggas
You play clean ball, I foul n*ggas
This for all them trill n*ggas, no deal n*ggas
Just getting it in in the field n*ggas
Them real n*ggas I vouch for, they can call me at my crib n*gga
Keep two freaks in my Louie sheet, keep a couple of racks in these Levi jeans
Cuban b*tch, got a Cuban plug
Boy Cuban Links with these Cuban drugs
Ramada's, that's where we used to count up all the dollars
Que pasa, my chopper always keep away the robbers

[Intermission]
Hold up, you see my n*gga Young Breed?
He really get that
He really talk that
He really live that
This is Triple C
M.M.G
Download to DJ's
I'm bout to bring out my n*gga Gunplay right now
?, it's a ? thing n*gga
Oh get ready for that
My n*gga Gunplay
Step to the mic
[Verse 2: Gunplay]
My horoscope, like a horror show
My worst fear, palms under oath
And pistols jamming, or catching something from your dirty mammy
Observe the damage after popping thirty zanie's
n*ggas green and everything between
I keep 'em arms limp just like this beam beam
Beam, beam
No witness to recite the scene
Just a hollow empty magazine
So sad it seems
Talking sh*t, what's that about
Acting like I'mma lose my title bout
I live what I write about
Bullsh*t, that's what all my homies died about
Full clip, new stick, I'm bout to try it out

[Intermission]
Stop that
You see my n*gga Gunplay?
You know every word he say is true
Ain't no denying that, ain't no doubting that
It's Carol City Cartel
From M.I.A., all the way to the B.X
Specialist E.N.T., U.F.O
Oh you know how I bring it
T.O
[Verse 3: Torch]
Long as my b*tches love me, you f*ck n*ggas don't pay me
I don't give a f*ck bout no hate, two busy counting this paper
Long as my b*tches love me, I don't give a f*ck how y'all feel
These n*ggas ain't never been real, none of y'all n*ggas gon' pay my bills
Seven figures, six ropes
Five traps, time to foreclose
Three choppers, two hundred low
One aim, one more
Take yours, get mine right
In the jungle you eat what you kill
I put you in the soup like Prom Night
Just to get another seat for a mill'
My nerves bad so I smoke good
My b*tch bad but she f*ck great
My rims new, my Chevy old
For that engine, bout seven trays
Top down so you see me clear
Parfait's in my Audemar
My bad I met Audemar, might order more with Ross on the ?
Double M, what you know about that
On Rodeo, what you know about racks
Louie thirteen, what you know about Yack
Thirty for the watch so you know I'm strapped
But that's a given
Tryna' dodge prison
J.O.B. just over broke
Forty K every month, now that's a living
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