Kent Money - Cypher Lyrics (Ft. Hit-Boy, Audio Push, Casey Veggies, BMac & Rick Ross)

Cypher Lyrics by Kent Money Ft. Hit-Boy, Audio Push, Casey Veggies, BMac & Rick Ross

And I say one for the money, 3 for the show (roll up)
Because we know that all the bad bitches smoke (vibe wit me)
You competition is past fictional
Gettin stopped like a bad pick and roll, magnifico
These niggas is getting old, my team too strong
Kevin knows, take you out your zone, I'm the new don
And the only polo I know is Ralph Lauren
Put me on the court with the opposition - I'll outscore 'em (easy).

Try not to use cash so my checks serve a purpose
Every time I sign for a blessing I use my cursive
Got scruffs on my Timbs for a dollar so it was worth it
Cocaine white suits, see an angel before we murk him
Hog for the work, niggas' eyes love to lurk
I got a bitch named cal, she 'bout 40 and love to twerk
Nothing changed, range aiming at your frame, nigga
Ain't a clause when dear to reign get you slain nigga

Prices turnover the code like da Vinci, no nigga tempt me
Generational curse of chugging whiskey 'til it was empty
Drive-bys out the four-door Honda, dreams of a Bentley
Pockets full of dead white men, I pray the master don't lynch me
Step your game up - You wifed her, she been a rat
I text her at the crack of dawn, tap-tap it and send her back
My granny, momma, sister, cousin bedroom was up in that trap
Is them drugs up on my counter? "No momma, that's Similac".

Yo, I just spent like 30k today, I ain't gon' front
See I came up from the bottom, I'mma get everything I want
See the homies, I'mma holla, nothing changed I rolled a blunt
Told 'em now it's time to eat cause we've been starving days and months
And it's a must that we can trust nobody but us
We ready to bust if enemies come
But I can realize that this this ain't what you want
See I do this shit for fun, screaming HS87 'til I'm done
Ha, now I'm done.

Stop the beat, here comes the starter
Grab your popcorn, grab your water
Grab your daughter, cause she watching cause I start like Mr. Carter
Say I'm ballin' like a man, finger on the trigger
Got money all in my pocket, I'm a I-E nigga
Name Oktane, that nigga Oktane to be exact
You hope to hear from a real nigga one day, well this is that
I got that crack and I got that X R E, AK
And I got my back, Tony Montana give em that brrrat
HS87 nigga that's that, I'm done.

No need for me to getting involved
You'll get hit with a bat and wrapped in a cloth
Uh, razor blades, shanks and fades
Everybody on the floor or they K'd
Uh, my young gliggity-Glock got on my crotch
Stay ready and cocked
Can't wrap me in a bag, I'm going pop
New Rollie, so heavy metal
Want a rock? Gotta hustle nonstop

Look, wash yo hands before you shake mine
You was talking shit I heard it through the grapevine
Yeah, it's a lot of boppers on the sideline
So the young baller had to go baseline
I'm a black nigga with money like Akon
You mad the squad winning that's a hate crime
Peas and carrots, live and grow, that's my day job
Young Veggie attract hoes like a Drake song.

California, Christopher Dorner manifesto
Hit-Boy, hip-hop I started on the metro
But now I'm in that retro, Ferrari two-seater
With the pedal to the floor, got it singing like Aretha
If you scared, get a dog or a preacher
Hit the hot spot with a bitch resembling Mona Lisa
Priceless, I'm righteous, I walk the talk
I am cooked cocaine, you are softer than chalk
Cause your bite ain't as bad as your bark
After dark, you inside like an embryo - I swim with the sharks
Cause when I smell blood in the water
I'm taking over like the New World Order,
Witness the gangland slaughter
Bitch.

Still sipping Rosé back seat of the Rolls
Kilos on the Cuban link, they thought it was Hov's
Fascinated with gold, sneakers and talented hoes
Before you get to cruise you paddle the boat
Elevated to elevators, had to walk flights
Young niggas lick shots for them Air Nikes.

Ride with me, although the driver's tipsy
Avoid them officers calling 50s to get me
They call me talk of the city, never talk the jiggy, man
I'd rather talk to Whitney, condolences to Bobbi Krissy
Balling I'm forreal, I got NBA skill
Make you feel a little scrappy with the Stevie J grill
And y'all ain't gotta ask me if it's Homicide Hill, nah
Don't even ask me - this is Homicide Hill.

I'm from the era of Biggie Smalls, TLC's "Waterfalls"
Buying dimebags by the mini-mall
I got your whole city logged online
Disrespect mine, I be throwing ones like a titty bar
You fucking with a grown man, boy
I plug two like Trugoy, send that memo on your Android
For 10G, you can talk to the boss
My experience, I'm like Jordan on the court, nigga

Pyrex pots and Guess shorts
Yo, weed flow is the best sport
Now I'm underwater flipping quarters
The code to go tackle the globe
Black Mac in the robe
Metal mag cold straps, shit is gold
Partyville and Hennessy fiend
I'm blessed, it was a dream
He had his team moving tight like skinny jeans
You know, by any means
We will bring the magazines out and clap everything down like little geeses
All ride with ninas, cooling in cuisines
Yo the whores is giving top in the back, I ordered wings
Spray shit up to smithereens
Stepping off they sway shit
Shake your hand, blow you head up in killa Queens
Yo, the dons know what it do
I'm just that fly in the interview
Wintertime grinding it seems
Remember the pledge of allegiance
To the team with more reasons, more firepower, and more squeezes.