Rich And Black

[Intro: D'Banj]
Stuttering,
Giving ‘em rest and making love again
In my best, I be the run again,
And I have the man dem stuttering.

[Chorus: D'banj]
I am getting dis nigga in di morning,
He gon' think he been chiefing, just too long when
He see me in di evening, wanna catch all these feelings,
Well, let me be the first to get mine.

[Raekwon:]
Barbeque and blow in the back of the crib,
Sittin' and countin', smokin' a spliff, this shit's a gift.
All my niggas watches is rough, grabbin' our crotches,
Yellin' ‘what up?' The jeans cost $500? Fuck!
Stop it, keep bakin', see, the smell it's a statement,
One freeze of this shit, you won't feel your legs, kid.
I'm a gangsta corporate hustla, my voice is illustrious,
Hounded by vicious dons, nigga, we armed, trust, bruh.
They yellin', ‘Chef, kill the plate with the cooks!'
I say, ‘Ye with 2 Chainz on, we Common, let's Push!'
Burn another bush, then burn another, we brothers.
Love us or not, the Mark Zuckerbergs of the block,
Hug a knot, stayin' rich, we was built for the guap,
Park the green six deuce on the deuce, just props.
Rock a kilt, mean Glock, I'm all machinery, ock,
Cling to me, now see how the scenery rock?

[Chorus]

[Common:]
I was born by a lake, chicken shack, and a church,
That mean the flow got wings and it come from the dirt.
Godly, I know she wanna test the ‘Rari,
Eye on a dollar like Illuminati.
Life is foggy, tryna see through the mist of it,
Could have been livin' it, you was Mrs. Mischievous,
This is just a letter to better your development,
Situation delicate.

[Pusha T:]
Some claim God body, blame Illuminati,
All ‘cause his pockets now knotty as his hair, yeah!
All Sonny, no Cher, only solitaires,
You clusterfucks, could cluster up
On tippytoe and still not muster up.
So it's ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
In God we trust, the game is all us,
Till the sky calls or it's flames on us. Push!

[Chorus]

[2 Chainz:]
2 Chainz!
I'm chillin' in my camo, flippin' through the channel,
On my G.O.O.D. Music shit, my logo's a Lambo.
Four doors of ammo, ammunition I'm pitchin'
To make your body switch another position.

[Cyhi the Prynce:]
I hope the people is listenin', I could never sell my soul,
I gave it back to God at my christenin'.
It's ticklin' when I hear what haters be whisperin',
What makes you think an Illuminati would ever let some niggas in?
Fake friends and siblings like to wish you well
But ain't never flip the nickel in.
Haters wanna pull they pistol when they see me in this race car,
But you can't spell war without an AR.
15, I was pushin' carts at K-Mart,
By 21, they said I'd be inside a graveyard.
Can't wait to get that black American Express,
So I can show them white folks how to really pull the race card.

[Kid Cudi:]
Yeah, you feelin' on top now, gettin' that money, nigga?
[Kanye West:]
You sold your soul!
[Kid Cudi:]
Yeah, you feelin' on top now, gettin' that money, nigga?
[Kanye West:]
Naw, man, mad people was frontin',
Aw, man, made something from nothing.
I treat the label like money from my shows,
G.O.O.D. woulda been God except I added more O's.
If I knew she was cheatin' and still bought her more clothes,
It's ‘cause I was too busy with my Baltimore, you know?
Some people call that the art of war, you know?
I guess it depends what you fallin' for. The clothes?
Cars, money, girls and the clothes?
Aw, money... You sold your soul!
Naw, man, mad people was frontin',
Goddamn, we made something from nothing!