[Verse 1: Pusha T]
Never trust a bitch who finds love in a camera
She will fuck you, then turn around and fuck a janitor
Set the parameters
You either with the pro ballers or the amateurs
I won't let you ruin my dreams or Harvey Weinstein the kid
Good mornin', Matt Lauer—can I live?
Look at my new digs
The rooftop can host a paint-and-sip for, like, forty
The Warhols on my wall paint a war story
Had to find other ways to invest
'Cause you rappers found every way to ruin Pateks
Fuck you niggas foolin'?
Your past do-deals is the talk of the jewelers
I'ma start investigating Mullers
It's way too many Slick Rick Da Rulas
It's like they cheapening the price of gold
You motherfuckers strip away the soul
A nigga don't even want a Rolls
Yeah, I just proposed
The rock came from Belgium
All she gotta do is keep her nails done
The well never runs dry
The money's in a desert
Next to Jimmy Hoffa
Past in the present
Future's in my driveway
I call it the reverend
White with no top on it
Stairway to Heaven, yeah
It's a message and a blessing
The kilos came, we measure it then we strech it
Yan just counted five-hundred in my kitchen
Set before the niches 'cause the forty-eight was missing
Ain't no losses in my collection plate
We turn millions out of a section-eight
Balenciaga flannel like I'm rolling candle
See these Cartiers, you're meant to make your soul repanel
Art Basel-in' the bezel
Your bustdown is bust-down and don't match the metal
Lower level's where you settle at
I'm the pot callin' the kettle black
Where there's no brake pedals at
Between God and where the Devil's at
Had to double-dutch and double back
Then hopscotch through where the trouble's at
Exactly what the game's been missin'
This fire burns hot as Hell's Kitchen
Push!
Never trust a bitch who finds love in a camera
She will fuck you, then turn around and fuck a janitor
Set the parameters
You either with the pro ballers or the amateurs
I won't let you ruin my dreams or Harvey Weinstein the kid
Good mornin', Matt Lauer—can I live?
Look at my new digs
The rooftop can host a paint-and-sip for, like, forty
The Warhols on my wall paint a war story
Had to find other ways to invest
'Cause you rappers found every way to ruin Pateks
Fuck you niggas foolin'?
Your past do-deals is the talk of the jewelers
I'ma start investigating Mullers
It's way too many Slick Rick Da Rulas
It's like they cheapening the price of gold
You motherfuckers strip away the soul
A nigga don't even want a Rolls
Yeah, I just proposed
The rock came from Belgium
All she gotta do is keep her nails done
The well never runs dry
The money's in a desert
Next to Jimmy Hoffa
Past in the present
Future's in my driveway
I call it the reverend
White with no top on it
Stairway to Heaven, yeah
It's a message and a blessing
The kilos came, we measure it then we strech it
Yan just counted five-hundred in my kitchen
Set before the niches 'cause the forty-eight was missing
Ain't no losses in my collection plate
We turn millions out of a section-eight
Balenciaga flannel like I'm rolling candle
See these Cartiers, you're meant to make your soul repanel
Art Basel-in' the bezel
Your bustdown is bust-down and don't match the metal
Lower level's where you settle at
I'm the pot callin' the kettle black
Where there's no brake pedals at
Between God and where the Devil's at
Had to double-dutch and double back
Then hopscotch through where the trouble's at
Exactly what the game's been missin'
This fire burns hot as Hell's Kitchen
Push!
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