Hold On (feat. Rick Ross)

Pusha t:

I sold more dope than I sold records

You niggas sold records, never sold dope

So I ain’t hearing none of that street shit

Cause in my mind, you mothafuckas sold soap

Got rich selling hope to the hopeless

But I’m a thinker, methodic in my motives

I motivate to put my niggas into motors

No woman, no child, no witness, no jehovahs

Like scarface but it's god's face in that mirror

We was made in his image, dialing and it's much clearer

Scoring from the heights but I wanted mine purer

Aryan, blonde hair, blue-eyed like the führer

The judge and the jury, the jewellery mad froze

Water colors on my neck, fuck rhyming when you blinding niggas

We ain't the same color clarity of diamond, nigga

Nah, I ain't got nothing in common with yous

Pain in my heart, it's as black as my skin

They tipping the scale for these crackers to win

No reading, no writing, made us savage of men

They praying for jail but I mastered the pen

Descendant from kings, we at it again

Just hand me the crown, I'm active again

Everything that it seems, hear my passion again

Was never my dream, the immaculate win

Rick Ross:

I was pissing my shorts having rich nigga thoughts

Wish I had a pistol before all the friends I done fought

Over night I seen a nigga go get a carrera

Two weeks later I had to be that boy pallbearer

Young king bury me inside a glass casket

Windex wipe me down for the life after

Crack dealer living like a hoop star

Black marble, white walls in my new spot

Four chains, big studs, a nigga too fly

Top down, tank top, I think I'm 2pac

So I'm labeled the rebel, nigga get on my level

We were born to be kings, only major league teams

Chasing my paper, couldn't fathom my wealth

Built a school in ethiopia, should enroll in myself

God body and mind, food for the soul

When you feeding on hate, you empty, my nigga, it shows

Follow the codes, ain’t no love for these hoes

If you slip and you fall I got you my nigga, hold on

If you right or you wrong, if you riding come on

By the end of this song, can't be hiding for long

I seen children get slaughtered, niggas' grandmothers assaulted

Throw a gang sign, dare you do something about it

Fuck copping them foams, when you copping the home

Cop a kilo and have them people on top of your home

Rick ross and pusha t:

Follow the codes, ain't no love for these hoes

If you slipping you fall, I got you, my nigga, hold on

If you right or you wrong, if you riding come on

By the end of this song, I got you, my nigga, hold on