Pusha T Ft Rick Ross - Hold On - Lyrics

  • [Verse 1: 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 motherfuckers sold soap
    Got rich selling hope to hopeless
    But I’m a thinker, methodic in my motives
    Uh, 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 this image [?] is much clearer
    Scoring from the heist 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 which yas
    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


    [Verse 2: Rick Ross]
    I was pissin' 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
    Got body and mind, food for the soul
    When you feedin' on hate, you empty, my nigga, it shows
    Follow them 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 coppin' them foams, when you coppin' the home
    Cop a kilo and have them people on top of your home


    [Outro: Rick Ross & 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
    I got you my nigga hold on, 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
    I got you my nigga, hold on, I got you my nigga, hold on
    I got you my nigga, hold on, I got you my nigga, hold on
    I got you my nigga, hold on...

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