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ishita

de Curren Cupeesh

Yeah
La Musica de Harry Fraud

Exit in the striker boat
Clean as fuck, eatin' millions and shittin' soap
Its in the ceilings, its in the walls, its in the floor
That's old news, the real drugs is in the floor
Gold shoes, David Spokes on a 94
Fleet wood, my weed and fucking my bottom bitch, how we sleep good
G's spent on that motor work, monsters under these hoods
Clique to thick for you to see through it, you know how we do it
Way different from them, momma who let em in?
Undesirables non-vibal, this is what them bosses flick them lighters to

Yeah, Yeah
This is Harlem in New Orleans
This is old school and dropped foreigns (right)
This that first smoke of the month
This that shit you always wanted (right)
I hope you suckas are ready for it
You know your bitches waiting on it
This is Harlem in New Orleans
This is old school and drop foreign

Riiiiiight, fuck the fame, give me the money and bud
Nigga could walk through Harlem and its nothin' but love
A1 under these rap Gods that's fuckin' with us
They don't even look cool, most of these niggas are suss
You rockin' with the innovators, imitated, never duplicated
If you don't fill actin', chances is you a hater
I can smell a motherfucka that's jealous, look at you
All in your feelings, you can't help it
Nigga look at the ground where real niggas round
I can see through the fake love and fake pounds
I ain't trippin' I don't kick it wit em
Verses they can copy, as long as they got the ticket for it
DZA

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