Pusha T – M.F.T.R. lyrics

(feat. The-Dream)

[Hook: The Dream]
Creep up on these niggas
Creep up on these niggas
Speak up on these niggas
Speak up on a nigga
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Go and make it bang, go and make it bang
Gettin’ followed by them hollows, go and make it bang
Niggas ain’t been to church in a minute
But it’s funny how that TEC make a nigga get religious
Amen!

[Verse 1: Pusha T]
You rather be more famous than rich
Play your role, it’s easy acting like Mitch
“Paid In Full” was more than reading a script
Paid in full is really just being Rich Porter
Filling all standing orders
Would you question could I swim if you saw me walking on water?
Yeah, while every song got a rapper dance
Yuugh, I’m drug money like Dapper Dan
No retirement plans, no Derek Jeters
We all know I did it; Rodriguez
The illusion of money we don’t believe in
You ask me, Tyga looking like a genius
I’m Kim Jong of the crack song
Gil Scott-Heron to the black poem
Woo, the revolution will be televised
‘Cause we done see all and they telling lies

[Hook: The Dream]
Creep up on these niggas
Creep up on these niggas
Speak up on these niggas
Speak up on a nigga
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Go and make it bang, go and make it bang
Gettin’ followed by them hollows, go and make it bang
Niggas ain’t been to church in a minute
But it’s funny how that TEC make a nigga get religious
Amen!

[Verse 2: Pusha T]
You rather be more famous than rich
Play your role, it’s easy being my bitch
It’s only right for a queen to floss your shit
Rolex crowns, I emboss your wrist
The minimums, niggas ain’t synonyms
Dual exhausts, driving flying saucers
Diamond crosses, hang Takashi portraits
Street millionaires rub shoulders
And laugh at bitches fucking promoters
Hoping that they get noticed, still driving a Focus
What you fuck him for if you didn’t know what the goal was?
Shine, remote control blinds
That turn on the time lapse, controlled by the iPad
Ahhh, my living room rap scream crack money
I don’t trust rap niggas or rap money
See this air hole tech and get ratttttt from me

[Hook: The Dream]
Creep up on these niggas
Creep up on these niggas
Speak up on these niggas
Speak up on a nigga
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Go and make it bang, go and make it bang
Gettin’ followed by them hollows, go and make it bang
Niggas ain’t been to church in a minute
But it’s funny how that TEC make a nigga get religious
Amen!

[Verse 3: Pusha T]
Niggas talking it, but ain’t living it
Two years later admitting it, all them niggas is renting shit
They ask why I’m still talking dope, why not?
The biggest rappers in the game broke, voilà
They say it’s hate, but it’s these well-dressed snakes
That learn to walk on the concrete, I just saw it and spoke to it
Yuugh, you ain’t know, you got coached through it
Wooo, the rap fans got hoaxed through it
Haaa, the whole time I sold coke through it
Nigga, and records I was Bo through it
King Push is synonymous with kingpin
Chess moves on your checkerboard, king him
Yeah, this is gun slingers and Goyard
Uh, this is O Dog in the courtyard
You wonder why I’m still here
I’m America’s worst nightmare
Night, night nigga

[Hook: The Dream]
Creep up on these niggas
Creep up on these niggas
Speak up on these niggas
Speak up on a nigga
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Go and make it bang, go and make it bang
Gettin’ followed by them hollows, go and make it bang
Niggas ain’t been to church in a minute
But it’s funny how that TEC make a nigga get religious
Amen!

[produced by: Hudson Mohawke, The-Dream, Frank Dukes & Boi-1da]

21 Savage, Offset & Metro Boomin – Ghostface Killers (feat. Travis Scott)

[Chorus: Offset]
Automatic (auto), automatics, in the trunk
Shoot the maggots, shoot the maggots with the pump
Thot and addy (thot), love the Patek on my arm (Patek)
We got static (static), pussy nigga run your charm (hey)
Ghostface killers (killers), Wu-Tang, 21 news gang (news)
Drug dealers in the Mulsanne, at the top of the food chain (hey)
Trappin’ the cocaine (yeah), no gang, shooter with no name
We can play toll games, the whole gang, kick in your door man

[Verse 1: Offset]
Yeah, put on the Patek, poppin’ xannys, I’m an addict
Break the mattress with a baddie on the addy
Diamonds flashing, need some glasses for the flashing, yeah
Michael Jackson with this fashion, bitch I’m dabbin’, yeah
All of this shit on purpose got these bitches slurpin’
All your pockets on hurting, nigga you can be my servant
Go to the lot and young nigga don’t lease it, I purchase
After I cut off a thot I give her some money for service (here)
Wherever I go the whole gang gon’ go, yeah (gang)
You cannot tame the ho because you want fame for sure (tame)
You think that you rich ’cause you got a hundred or more
I got an over overload like I just sold my soul
I, pour up a four, a liter, I got the stripes, Adidas
I got a foreign mamacita and I been known to beat it (mama)
Niggas ain’t goin’ defeated, we get the guns immediate
Don’t burn in the coupe, it’s an Italy
These niggas is broke and it’s pitiful

[Chorus: Offset]
Automatic (auto), automatics, in the trunk
Shoot the maggots, shoot the maggots with the pump
Thot and addy (thot), love the Patek on my arm (Patek)
We got static (static), pussy nigga run your charm (hey)
Ghostface killers (killers), Wu-Tang, 21 news gang (news)
Drug dealers in the Mulsanne, at the top of the food chain (hey)
Trappin’ the cocaine (yeah), no gang, shooter with no name
We can play toll games, the whole gang, kick in your door man

[Verse 2: 21 Savage]
Yeah, Kim Jong, yeah big bombs (21)
Wonder Bread man, make your bitch lick crumbs (yeah)
Audemars Piguet flooded, got my wrist numb (bling)
Grab the hitstick, nigga tryna blitz some’
Dope boy, dope boy, I sell coke boy (21)
You broke ass rappers food, it’s a po boy (21)
Everybody the same, all these niggas sound alike (dick riders)
Fox 5 gang, turn you to a candlelight
Bitch boy I’m a mobster, shrimp in my pasta
Jamaican Don Dada, hang ’round the shottas
Mad Max nigga, yeah I hang with the killers (21)
Planet of the Apes, yeah I hang around gorillas (on god)
I got AK, SK, HK, broad day (21)
You a fuckboy, we ain’t with the horseplay (bitch)
Shrimp ass nigga, did you do your chores today? (21)
Do you wanna take a ride with the coroner today? (21)

[Chorus: Offset]
Automatic (auto), automatics, in the trunk
Shoot the maggots, shoot the maggots with the pump
Thot and addy (thot), love the Patek on my arm (Patek)
We got static (static), pussy nigga run your charm (hey)
Ghostface killers (killers), Wu-Tang, 21 news gang (news)
Drug dealers in the Mulsanne, at the top of the food chain (hey)
Trappin’ the cocaine (yeah), no gang, shooter with no name
We can play toll games, the whole gang, kick in your door man

[Verse 3: Travis Scott]
Drop from the heavens straight in the wild (yeah)
Trunk in the front, top gotta slide
Ride suicides, we keep this shit alive (yeah)
Jumping out the public houses, don’t you come outside
(Straight up)
Private status, tryna land the jet at Magic (how you goin’?)
Goin’ way up, on my way to cut through traffic (what you poppin’)
Pop the seal and pop the bean, I need the balance (pop it, pop it)
Bloody ass is what I’m seeing, it’s way too graphic
Watch your fingers ’cause the cactus dangerous (yeah)
Broke, you ain’t us, we don’t speak that language
On the couches
Tom Cruise, I’ma make her see, she snort a mountain
Rackades on the outfit will make her bounce it
Good drank my life yeah, CPR my pipe, yeah
Please need the energy, only got a night, yeah (it’s lit)
Nike boys, we don’t do three stripes (yeah)
I’m living for my niggas that do life, yeah

[Chorus: Offset]
Automatic (auto), automatics, in the trunk
Shoot the maggots, shoot the maggots with the pump
Thot and addy (thot), love the Patek on my arm (Patek)
We got static (static), pussy nigga run your charm (hey)
Ghostface killers (killers), Wu-Tang, 21 news gang (news)
Drug dealers in the Mulsanne, at the top of the food chain (hey)
Trappin’ the cocaine (yeah), no gang, shooter with no name
We can play toll games, the whole gang, kick in your door man