lirik lagu v don & bodega bamz - 100 keep it
[verse 1: bodega bamz]
money was growin’ out my treehouse, countin’ cash with my feet out
yeah, i see my way in, but i don’t see the way out
so i bring my faith in, prayin’ that i make out
good, ’cause in danger, there’s no safe route, better me than you, partner
they said i should’ve played in gauchos, that’s bullsh~t
i’m a mobster with no options
i’m still on broadway, not the opera
even though i want a phantom, cocaina white
you gotta live for the moment, recordin’ all night
like paranormal activity when i ghostwrite
casualties of a dice game, i roll for life
that’s that santería blood in the chicken fight
give me some chicken, mix promethazine with my sprite
i kept the iron, i ain’t never wanna be like mike
where these rappers from? all they speak is fiction
i guess they lyin’ for the health, ’cause honesty’s a sickness
n~gga
[verse 2: smoke dza]
it’s dark and h~ll is hot, you heard what x said
i’m in this b~tch gettin’ it poppin’ like a x head
my n~ggas reckless, take your neck for your necklace
i got a appetite for destruction, say, what’s for breakfast?
uh, this a 9/11 riot
f~ckin’ stressed, got a n~gga on a sour d diet
bullsh~t, i’m flyin’ by it, i’m too real for the fake sh~t
i’m too debonair for the tasteless
i’m marvelous, n~ggas is garbage, got my gauntlet
gun~range flow, everybody’s a target
dropped out of dice, skipped harvard
regardless, still f~ck off bread, i’m mr. marcus
i’m ’bout to that w, paper, i need all of that
could get a twenty pack for thirty~two if i can bring it back
right, get a quarter for a verse
for all the b~tches, i go cop me some more work
right
[verse 3: willie the kid]
rubbin’ elbows with these elbows
enclosed in the h~llhole, i need closure
keep my gun like composure, too close for comfort
i’m countin’ currency on granit countertops, granted
carpal~tunnel wrist, tunnel vision, i take risk
salt and battery, no copper tops, i’m durable
no duracell, sell anything except my soul
my sole purpose a perfect goal, i’m goin’ with the wind
quite frankly, my dear, i don’t give a d~mn
cramp cash money in my stash box
safe’s in the wall behind portraits, la crème de la crème, my hidden fortress
hump the hood princess, the boy next door
air jordans galore, i’m determined
that’s all, g4s across the seashore
dressed like lacrosse players, lacoste polo by the layer
a fresh pair of raw labors, willie the kid
willie gary paper
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