Victor Kwesi Mensah - Dynasty

Текст песни

The crazy man’s keepin' me up, I’m not sleepin'\nMy fit too fresh to be doin' the housekeepin'\nThe maids cost too much, started cleanin' my own closet\nLivin' childhood fantasies, dealin' with grown problems\nGot a brand new bae, she keep me good like the music\nIf the Roc is here, throw up your diamonds and hood cubics\nNo I.D. said it’s time to take these goofy niggas out rap\nDrop bombs over Baghdad on these SoundCloud outcasts\nI stray away to say the way my days would be without rap\nMy mind drifts to back before the Chi was labelled Chiraq\nThen Chief Keef dropped in 2012, now it’s a drill\nI was waitin' in the wing like a bird on a windowsill\nNow I’m the fresh prince, I think I know how my uncle feel\nHe sent this dope shit to my veins like fiends on any deal\nAfter we build on existing structures, shift the culture\nLike George Bush searchin' for weapons of mass destruction\nThink I’m 'bout to blow! But this ain’t the Middle East\nThis the midwest and we the royal family like Della Reese\nSAVEMONEY the new dynasty like Death Row in '93\nThe same year my mother’s water broke on 57th St\nMama Mensah knew she raised a very special man\nYoung Muhammad in the ring with the power in my hands\nTo defy the federation like Ali in Vietnam\nThe Roc is still alive, throw your diamonds up again\nYeah, I carry the Roc like a runnin' back, hundred miles and runnin' back\nHov the president, he flyin' private in Obama’s jet\nVic the young hitta, I want it with any nigga\nMy problems' deeper than rap, ain’t a problem to bury niggas\nCemetery diggers will be ready for your favorite rapper\nCatch him stompin' in my yard, I step up like a Beta Kappa\nI am nothin' like these actors, they’re only on camera\nI hit 'em in the head like Holly Holm hit Ronda\nAnd my home is Rwanda, blood diamonds and minors\nHigh school students with guns hidin' in their binder\nGotta wear a clear bookbag and wear a hood pass\nHit you from the blindside, that’s a no look pass\nRookie season, Steve Nash, they are just my sons\nCatchin' alley-oops, catch 'em in the alley, oops\nI heard a certain who’s who mad that I like the danger\nGet your priorities straight like Hermione Granger\nSixteen in the magazine and one in the chamber\nSneak it in the club, that’s a club banger\nThis is not a diss song, this a disclaimer\nSorry that your management can’t manage my anger\nViolence is not the answer but, Lord, they done brought it to me\nYou gon' see a side of me, the South Side taught it to me\nThey gon' think I’m Akeem when I pull up and pull\nA semi Uzi, auto, fully out the Robert Geller hoodie\nYeah, Pelle Pelle bloody, Motown Berry Gordy\nWith the shits, lavatory, hell on Earth, purgatory\nMinimums is mandatory, crack sentencin'\nBad parentin', put his dad on Maury, just another classic story\nI know there’s no master for me, I don’t even buy chains\nI don’t rock diamonds, I just need the Roc chain\nI don’t get high no more, I go high octane\nThey should call the rap game my name, this is my game, Vic!\nTo the police (To the police)\nYou can not (You can not!)\nYou can not (You can not!)\nYou can not (You can not!)\nYou will not (You will not!)\nKill me (Kill me!)\nIf you want justice, make some noise, let’s go (whoo!)\n16 shots, 16 shots\n16 shots, 16 shots\n16 shots, 16 shots\n16 shots, 16 shots