Monopoly
Title | Monopoly |
---|---|
Artist | Re-Up Gang |
Album | We Got It 4 Cheap, Vol. 2 |
Release Date | 2005 |
Description | The beat for this song is actually a DJ Premier remix of Showbiz & A.G.’s “Next Level” (produced by Showbiz and A.G.), called “Next Level (Nyte Time Mix)”. |
Lyrics | [Intro: Pusha-T] Uh-huh [Hook: Pusha-T] R-E, U-P-G, A-N-G One plus three, the four we be White to beige, shit, we lost them souls the Lord save Monopolize these corners, we own 'em like board games [Verse 1: Ab-Liva] It's the allure of the grind, nigga, I love crime Bentley Arnage with the cuts well [?] When you ain't got shit (Man...), fuck the world You got chips, you can fuck the next man's girl Harsh, but they been ripped apart my world So I shall cook crack, so I hurl Three-quarter lamb-skin nigga, so I Shearl Up on them five-spoke chrome things, so I twirl Haters they earl, they nauseous, lookin' like I'm Godsent Cream accents over that pearl white parchment Interior blindin', floor mats ostrich Scream havoc away, that's a constant (Nigga) I'm that knot that you flash when you buyin' the bar I'm the pistol when niggas run for they car I'm the bullet that travel through the barrel Pierce you like an arrow See your soul, flyin' with the sparrows [Verse 2: Pusha-T] Been hearin' all the lies about your tires Chrome rims and wires And all them neighborhoods you supplyin' Tryna get the OG to buy it I was out Cancun, vacationin', tryna get inspired Second time around, they say the third's the charm But listen, we the Re-Up Gang, we ain't the norm Four rap niggas with a dope dealer swagger But can you call it swagger if you still really bag up? I think not, the glass stove with the gray pot Mason jar, quarter contents of the Ziplocs Small-minded niggas think I'm readying the rock But in reality, I'm just cookin' a droptop Or gettin' my wrist right, or makin' my neck heavy Or keepin' my bitch tight, she love steppin' in Giuseppes Sinati[?] flashes, the 600 hashes Twiddlin' our thumbs on that La-Di-Da shit [Verse 3: Sandman] Swervin' with my pinky, on my lap's the steel Mac-10 matchin' the carriage whippin' the wheel All my diamonds VS, resembling 'Cris Hypnotizing ya bitch, you yellow-bellied in piss Them, Pelle Pelles I switch, more butter than in what I pitch Hoes love it, I smut 'em quick, then make 'em nut till they sick Let 'em wipe off my dick, pull my Dickies up Then I rub 'em on they belly 'cause they shit beat up, ya dig? That's how I do you niggas bitches every day Smooth, I'm fly, shitting on you in every way Cover my crotch, holding my Glock, waitin' to pop (Blaow!) Huh, you playin' gorilla, then you ready to die I'ma still shine on Big yellow bell, more squares than an ear of corn Fuck tattoos, I make real tears form Blood pools through when that HK drawn Shots splatter the block, now Dae-Dae's drawn SWATs run on the block, but Dae-Dae's gone You might also like[Verse 4: Malice] Y'all niggas rhyme? You're lyin' to me Get a good look what you aspirin' to be I see you got drive, consign him a key Whoever got flow, then you sign him to Re- Up Gang niggas, sold a million plus And still I'm in the kitchen like I'm Wolfgang Puck Damn shame, ain't it? Yeah, my love's tainted For the game, so forgive me if I seem a bit jaded I ain't up on the latest in hip-hop news I'm more concerned with my tick-tock shoes Don't get it confused, we here to take aim It's the tale of two brothers like Frank and Jesse James Ab play the role of the Sundance kid Fuckin' with the Re-Up, you might not live And Sand: Butch Cassidy, finger on the trig Y'all niggas live from us, like them bitches from the rib [Hook: Pusha-T] R-E, U-P-G, A-N-G One plus three, the four we be White to beige, shit, we lost them souls the Lord save Monopolize these corners, we own 'em like board games |