Текст песни Future (Ace Hood) с переводом

I am the streets, the future

I introduce you to Ace Hood, Meek Millz

Big Sean, Wale, Vado, this the future

They getting money, they making hit records, they hustling

Okay now Khaled told me kill em, he just told me kill em

Hundred for the Beamer, kudos for the dealer

Murder bet I wrote her, kudos to the killer

Chevy sitting crooked, teeth on Reggie Miller

I’m a motherfucking beast see me in your sleep

Nightmare on any street

Swear I will murk any beat

Spread this to the industry, lyrics like the chopper piece

Flow right through your fitted T, pull this loot with chemistry

Hottest nigga around, they saying greatness is my tendency

No such thing as sympathy, more money my remedy

Pockets on Heavy D, bitch I’m hot, third degree

Whip I drive, owned by me

Wrists and neck, anti-freeze

Can it be, I’m who you dying to be

Last of a dying breed

Talking Siamese

Twin pistol shooter nigga like a 7B

Big dog, get it you still on your pedigree

Yeah, fly nigga with some stupid swag

Dead faces keep my money in a body bag

And the G-U-T-T-A, hops in the whip and I gotta get paid

Fuck them bitches, ain’t trying to get laid

Walk in my house you can meet my maid

Any given day you can push that Lac

Push that Benz on, push that 'Lade, hop to the whip

No top on mine, niggas gonna hate, man fuck them guys

Real nigga shit, don’t tell no lie

Private plane, my seat recline

Top ten charts, where I reside

Got me a house, about to sign

We the motherfucking best, word to my Mama

Ride Presidential got me feeling like Obama

Cause all I want is change and my niggas they wanted the same

I wanted the money and never the fame

I turned into something they never became

Through all that rain, I kept my flame

And I kept burning and it’s my turn and

Real nigga my hood confirm it

Now it’s 6 2's on closed curtains

And that Maybach, let me take em way back

When I was starving now it’s payback

Nigga where that cake at

Murder all your artists

And I can feel that love, I can feel that hate

When I got that drum, I just feel so safe

I put it to your mug, and it ain’t gonna wait

From this lil 08 when that thing gon fly

Got a little kick, but it ain’t no tire

Niggas talk murder, but they ain’t gon ride

Now we going hard like I ain’t gonna die

Meek Mill

Do it, okay, okay

Smoke until I ain’t got no lungs

Got her going down, no teeth

I call it speaking tongues

Do it, do it

Now you speaking my language

When they twist and talk with they fingers

Man but this ain’t no sign language

Just fresh out of the ashes it’s a Detroit fucking classic from when

MM got the masses

Trick Trick got them passes

Bitch I’m from the Motor, Motor

Yeah that motor be the fastest

Bitch, they call it Motor City

Cause you’re most likely to crash

Fuck it, good thing I got a chauffeur

Going broke, no sir

Bitch I’m the rap game stylist cause I gave the rap game style bitch

But I overshine ain’t no niggas over Sean

Told em it’s five quarters so I guess we going overtime

Till we’re Dumb high, dumb high

Westside, bitch I run mine

I’m rolling around in my old school, I feel like the alumni

Fucking hoes, no strings attached

So don’t ask me why they strung out

I’m like Jordan to you niggas

I might even stick my tongue out

She wiggled and wobble/bobbled

Then landed on my throttle

Bitch, I might make you my baby

And even buy you a bottle

Your niggas don’t ask how the top feel

When you keep em right beside you

My pockets got paper on paper

This shit just look like a novel

Hundred thousand worth of ice on me now

But it don’t feel half as good as grandma saying she’s proud

Forever dedicated, Maybach poetic genius

Some think they close to seeing me

Tell em they close to Stevie

You poser niggas apose be here

We don’t believe ya. Y’all run them?

We put a wreath on niggas' career

We the best, Khaled, no need to stress Khaled

Know there’s a lot of artists but I got the best palette

Multiple colors, my mind’s more productive than others

Married to Winnie, he think he really Nelson Mandela

That’s fire though

One time for the 305, though

That hydro make me tired, yo

My kick game be so Tae-Bo

My balance be so tight rope

That’s hard to find Quick Tri-Flow

Can’t fuck with me, y’all dyke flow

Hoes blow for me, I maestro, shit

That white whip sit like a slight wrist slit

Suicide shit, you can by shit if you write this shit

Right this minute, they say I’m buzzing hard

My driver’s out of this world, you playing bumper cars

You niggas under cars you should be unemployed

All you smokers Reggie I’m in the telley making a bunch of noise

Who gon tell me that I ain’t going or I ain’t flowing

Young Folarin, you see them Pewters

That was my influence

The twin towers fell

Turning to Ground Zero

Kids ain’t like Reggie Jackson, Nicki Barnes their hero

As I play Rothstein, Corleone like Bob De Niro

Been through it we’re here though, don’t move with the weirdos

Dress pimping-like and toast like less when

Your house is on West and Fourth, mine is on West Sixth

While I ride this Maserati, Rick and his best friends

When I die tell them to turn my coffin to stretch Benz

Rims on it, problems my men’s on it

See him we stomp him out his mouth our Timbs on it

Always smoking an ounce amount, no tens on it

Spins on it, you have no clout depends on it

What the feigns say, few roaches you need spray

On tours, we straight making sure lawyer fees paid

Get the bills due, Mildew SRT-8

Charcoal seats gray, drop tops like release dates

Vado