Hard In Da Paint lyrics

[Intro: Meek Mill]
Ay Rug
See these n*ggas already know what it is with me
I go hard in the paint
We ain't even got to talk about that
Philly in this b*tch, heard that

[Verse 1: Meek Mill]
Rollie on my wrist brighter than my future is
Shorty standing there ass fatter than Rasputia is
I play for the dream team, hang out with the coolest kids
Watch out for my Louie belt cause that's right where my Ruger is
I go hard in the muthaf*ckin' paint n*gga
Leave you stankin' n*gga, what the f*ck you thinkin' n*gga?
Five presidents on that presidential Lincoln n*gga
Gold presidential out the window middle finger n*gga
f*ck 'em all that's how I feel
sh*tting on these n*ggas without a deal
My money right I'm super strapped
Talking all that hammer sh*t where your toolie at
Ask around the town we be doing that
All that white and sour diesel we be moving that
That's word to my thirty-six O's
I'm still the same n*gga with the thirty-six flow
In thirty days I'm trying to f*ck thirty rich hoes
I'll still be spitting that flamerz like thirty-six stoves, woah
North side 'til the death of me, definitely
Camero with the black stripe, referee preferably
I be feeling myself and I ain't on no Ecstasy
But the groupies is and you can tell by how they molested me
She gon' suck my di*k, she gon' suck it too
She gon' f*ck Omelly, and she gon' f*ck the crew
Now she f*ck with me, she don't f*ck with you
And that's crazy dawg you know that was your f*cking boo
That's the reason why you hating
Let the streets say what they want because I'm caking
Shout out to all of the n*ggas that thought that I wouldn't make it
They the fakest ones hating while I was in the basement
[Verse 2: AR-ab]
Where I'm from getting money be the object
I get mine putting fire to the Pyrex
f*ck a diss track I bring it to you direct
I kill you then the witness die next
44 Bulldog is a 5x
You never progress if you only side bet
I'm trying to kill two birds with one stone
I just grabbed two birds but one gone
I supply it well that's my clientele
I fire shells if any one of my clients tell
They say its a long line to hell
But I'ma either get rich or I'ma die in jail
Until then I'm only trying to gain revenue
Razor blade in a plate full of residue
'96 Impala is heaven blue
Being broke like you is what I'll never do
Purple juice and them Xans got me sleep walking
She say n*ggas like me she don't see often
And I don't care if he shot I just keep sparking
I make n*ggas throw towels and make peace offerings
I got two baby mommas and we don't speak often
I just give them bank rolls and tell them keep walking
I just show a b*tch money I don't keep talking
Then she slob on my knob like she retarded
Sour D 4 grams stuffed in the Dutch
Fifty grand rubber band tucked in the cut
Two b*tches four hands touching my nuts
Then I give them long di*k touching their gut
If money is the topic I get it like Floyd
I be OG, moving grams of the [?]
If I don't know n*ggas my hand on toy
Cause I'm a f*cking shooter, Brandon Roy
My n*gga Cass got the Bent I need the 550
I only blow good smoke the L's 550
You not a real connect if you can't supply fifty
My cousin Nas get half cause he'll die with me
O.B.H be the set and we gon' get ours'
A couple n*ggas got shot trying to take ours
I was in the crack house with eight vowels
You was like Eminem off of eight mile
In your sh*tty house writing rap songs
I use to run in n*ggas house with the mac on
I guess you only need one mic like Nas
I'll take a full pound in a white pie
Glock 30 compact that's the right size
[?] on the stove watch the white rise
I'm talking brick sales get your order up
I dry cook mine I don't like it watered up