Cross-Trainers (feat. Kendrick Lamar & Blu)

歌詞

[Chorus] I got my cross-trainers on, motherfucker, I run shit All I do is rap, make dough for the dumb shit The return of that 808 trunk hit Cash in my palm, I'mma pass the baton, GO! Cross trainers on my motherfuckin' feet (go!) Cross trainers on my motherfuckin' feet (go!) Cross trainers on my motherfuckin' feet Cash in my palm, I'mma pass the baton You be on that fuck shit, I'm tryin' to make bucks quick Don't talk to me if money ain't the subject 93's laced up, we about to run shit Mibbs right beside me, BeYoung got the blunt lit Shawn on the cut, Swiff D on the drum kits Standin' on your table with a bottle and a drunk bitch Fallin' all over spillin' drinks, tryin' to tongue kiss Money over hoes, so you know I ain't the one, Miss Take her home, make her moan, and when I get done: (Switch!) Pass her off like a basketball Stay with dimes, I'm like Nash to y'all My living room look like a casting call Don't be bringing hoes where (?) are A sweet talkin' nigga, ask your mom My nigga, that's your squad? We treat line-ups like that's Lebron Push backwards like the bush whackers We ain't just kush rappers - we max it out like Foot Action [Chorus] Nigga hand over fist, bring some cash in this bitch Y'all niggas picture near puttin' swag in your spliffs My niggas cop the 7 just to laugh at the 6 Like "nigga, do you know how much ass I'mma get?" Wrote a plan out, let's dip, we can market and sing Put that cash in a stash, save that part for the rent Only way niggas swingin' is to target the fence That's why everything we're singing hit the target like Prince, man I'm talkin' vanity and "Can it be?"'s Stickin' to the strategy, how simple can it be? Niggas comin' home we gon' put them on the salary Niggas think they cold 'til we push our shit to Calgary Yea, you're who-blah and your shoe rot You're too shy to be Rah Rah, your due ska You're new job from Calgary to the new spot Threw that 2pac on, but couldn't ride like we used 'ta Used up, you're new guy's shoe size Drew ties, never move pies move lines She do lines why we shoot rhymes, shoo fly Don't bother the father, just let me do mine [Chorus] It's notorious, peep it Y'all niggas is Victoria's Secret Soft as Mom's lingerie It's a man's world boy, put the pom-poms away It's only right we got our palms on LA Cause if Pac was alive, you'd get bombed on today Bombs bombs away, like 'Bron 'Bron and Wade We been had next, now it's our time to play, nigga Your false prophets will never jump in my pockets You're poppin' your gums and I'm poppin' your optics Optimus Prime when I'm done And the topic of music is me And the logic is usually You should stop in and grab a degree In the science of how to emcee And I'm watchin' the critic critique When I'm climbing the valleys and peaks And aligning myself While I'm riding Orion's belt In the street and defiling this beat As a dead bitch that lay at my feet This is King shit [Chorus]