African economy

Cat Power – White Mustang lyrics

“Cordae Lyrics – Parables (Remix)”

[Intro: Cordae]
I gotta ride with them, ride with them
Roll with them, roll with the, whoa, whoa, whoa
Tell ’em, “Ride with ’em”, we could ride with ’em
Ride with them, whoa, we could, whoa, whoa, whoa
I say odd, gotcha, odd, getcha, woo, what
Look at this, nigga, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Nigga, I need, we could fight with them, roll
Yeah, uh, yeah

[Verse 1: Cordae]
I’ve seen shit in my lifetime, my light is shining
Protect your poison energy when the python strikes
My first mistake was flying on Niken bikes
Watch my moves and I’ll show you what an icon looks like
You’re letting the past go, aren’t you?
Nigga, fuck your truce, stop your move
And if that guy touches your shoes
You better blow up on ’em and my mama, nigga
I’ll get that money on ’em, hundred on the dash on ’em
Swerve, born from the trench, you from the ‘burbs
Nigga, fuck the early bird, nigga
I’ll get that fucking chicken
And if a nigga ever got a problem, nigga
We can fucking work it out, on my mama, nigga
I just wanted to prove myself
I just pray through the fight, I don’t lose myself
Glock, no security, Plaxico, I could shoot myself
They catch balls like two Odells, and, nigga, you gon’ say it
But listen

[Chorus: Cordae]
I can tell you that time passed in the paint
And I can tell you shit that other niggas can’t, let me tell you
I can tell you about the time I had to drop a nigga row
And I can tell you I done shit after drinking, let me tell you
I can tell you the time I signed a contract for twenty bands
And I used that shit to get my bro out the box, let me tell ya
I can tell you about the time I had a dime and a plan
I can tell you shit, but you won’t understand, let me tell you, nigga

[Verse 2: Cordae]
First and foremost, for every door that opens, a door closes
Beat a nigga, take his Bordeaux, upgrade my wardrobe
And God knows living like this takes a short road
A dead end, or jail time, where we were headed
Instead, when I got bread, I broke it with brothers
Eyes open, leave the house, move like a veteran
Made a couple bucks from the come-ups, my niggas flex
Nigga got a problem, so I can make some fixes
Alright, cool, still with the same niggas since elementary school
I don’t care about your Shade Room when I made room
For everyone on this late moon, and a word to Rae Sremm’
I had to bring them the fuckin’ swang
And I don’t even want to have to empty them
This Lam’ truck got a full tank on ’em
But, a nigga better not look at me bad
That’s some shit I can’t say about this song, but let me tell you, nigga
[Chorus: Cordae & Eminem]
I can tell you that time passed in the paint
And I can tell you shit that other niggas can’t, let me tell you
I can tell you about the time I had to drop a nigga row
And I can tell you I done shit after drinking, let me tell you
I can tell you the time I signed a contract for twenty bands
And I used that shit to get my bro out the box, let me tell ya
I can tell you about the time I had a dime and a plan (Yeah-yeah, yeah, yeah)
I can tell you shit, but you won’t understand, let me tell you, nigga

[Verse 3: Eminem]
I’ve seen shit in my life, at some point I
I still remember how much I wanted ‘5 mics’
My biggest dream was just to make it an Unsigned Hype
It’s so hard for me to understand that it was once my life
Shit will make you wanna get by like a plea deal
So I treat a beat like it’s Tekashi, spit on that bitch like Meek Mill
My addiction made me weak
I relapse, I think I can’t stop eating Beat Pills
And Doctor DRE keep giving me refills
Send ’em to me, bullets hit indiscriminately
Women and men and small children old people until the Sig is empty
Whipped Gen-Z into a frenzy, but nothing to give, it’s in me, I’m stingy
And that’s the fucking difference between them and me
And that’s the reason I’m in my Louis Vuitton
More gory than Eva Long
This rap shit, it’s something you’ll never see me like prom
What I mean is the bar, higher than Cheech and Chong
When you give them each a bong
I call my Stan a fan club ’cause the one he rants on
Fuckin’ punches, like police truncheons
You’re all window shoppers, gather Peeping Toms
I still got that target on my back, a red dot on my head
Yeah, blood on my hands for some of the rhymes I said
Police squad on task
Got ’em on my trail, like my stepdad with the belt, got SWAT on my ass
I was painfully shy, now I’m proud of myself
Like Obama’s kids, I came out of my shell (Michelle)
And I can promise this
On my mama, shit, no girls, bitch
That every word will be true so without further ado
It’s the return of the ruthless deadlier than Mook, so what you gon’ do is think I’m allergic when I point that fuckin’ burner at ‘chu
I throw shade it will be curtains for you
Pray for the verse to pass, birth of a new
Worse me who is determined to do
Permanent damage with the words I threw, bird’s eye view, I’m called Zeus
Circle like I’m a vulture, features are tournaments, I turn ’em into
Letting go of me is like verbal abuse, hurtful language to use to curse you
I made a few mistakes that happened in my youth I skipped a hurdle or two words but I’m done
Telling you about government food stamps and cheese
And how we used to get school meals for free
I already told you, about the holes in my Pony shoes and my Rustler jeans
When it was mom, little brother and me
I told you ’bout, be kicked out at 20 degrees, no money to eat
About thrift stores and being poor Christmases Ma had presents for us, when my brother and I found out that she
Was shit wrapped around the house, to stick it under the tree
Thin