[Produced by Ski, C-Sick & Young Guru]
[Hook: Nas]
I’m out for Presidents to represent me (Get Money)
I'm out for presidents to represent me (Get Money)
I'm out for presidents to represent me (Get Money)
I'm out for dead fuckin' presidents to represent me
[Verse 1]
They call me Solomon Kane, I Wallow in Pain, tomorrow
I follow the chain, I tolerate Caine, the sorrow
But you can call me Kane for short, cause I both sell and spit caine for sport
The painful sort, you know who I am
You know that I will die for my man’s
So don’t fight us, cause were righteous, and you’ll lie in the sands
Power’s essential, but money makes the world go round
The dollar bill is what will make your girl go down
You fuck with me then I’ll do shit the Cali way
The Glock makes art, and it’ll look like Salvador Dali sprayed
It’s saturday, Saint latter’s day, stole cash astray, I blast away, his brain matter sprayed
I had to sell crack on the streets to get back on my feet
And if you wack on this beat, you’ll get the blast from my heat
I’m so slick that I go out in public pickin’ chickens
And when it’s gone, the feds think I’m a fuckin’ magician
Fuck whatcha wishin’, just wait until the drama dies
Cause if you start poppin’ stupid shit then you’ll be beggin’ fo a homicide
Enemies see me through the Llama’s eyes
(Pop Pop) we cop Glocks and laugh when we hear yo Mama’s cries
Ain’t no need to dramatize nobody could change me
Fuck tulips, your ass pickin’ flowers you’ll be pushin’ up daisies
I'm not Gotti, I'm all for thriving in silence
Cause if you not, your life will flash through your eyelids
Come on
[Hook: Nas]
I’m out for Presidents to represent me (Get Money)
I'm out for presidents to represent me (Get Money)
I'm out for presidents to represent me (Get Money)
I'm out for dead fuckin' presidents to represent me
[Verse 1]
They call me Solomon Kane, I Wallow in Pain, tomorrow
I follow the chain, I tolerate Caine, the sorrow
But you can call me Kane for short, cause I both sell and spit caine for sport
The painful sort, you know who I am
You know that I will die for my man’s
So don’t fight us, cause were righteous, and you’ll lie in the sands
Power’s essential, but money makes the world go round
The dollar bill is what will make your girl go down
You fuck with me then I’ll do shit the Cali way
The Glock makes art, and it’ll look like Salvador Dali sprayed
It’s saturday, Saint latter’s day, stole cash astray, I blast away, his brain matter sprayed
I had to sell crack on the streets to get back on my feet
And if you wack on this beat, you’ll get the blast from my heat
I’m so slick that I go out in public pickin’ chickens
And when it’s gone, the feds think I’m a fuckin’ magician
Fuck whatcha wishin’, just wait until the drama dies
Cause if you start poppin’ stupid shit then you’ll be beggin’ fo a homicide
Enemies see me through the Llama’s eyes
(Pop Pop) we cop Glocks and laugh when we hear yo Mama’s cries
Ain’t no need to dramatize nobody could change me
Fuck tulips, your ass pickin’ flowers you’ll be pushin’ up daisies
I'm not Gotti, I'm all for thriving in silence
Cause if you not, your life will flash through your eyelids
Come on
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