Текст песни Miss Me (Styles P) с переводом

Wiz, what’s up, boy?

Some next level shit

Yeah

Khalifa man

Oh, but you didn’t know?

Big boss shit

Hey, hey

Yeah

Real shit on my own hype

Las Vegas, we got four-thousand grow lights

This year I’m catchin' more flights

They don’t even rock they own ice

I buried money and I pray it don’t rot

Thank God I wasn’t home when they raided my spot

I’m best friends with my FoodSaver (Where my vacuum seal at?)

Monterey county, I just grabbed a whole acre

I’m so tailored, you can smell it in the air

I leave the club with all the bitches, fuck it, life isn’t fair (Don't be mad)

They say it’s a problem but I be everywhere

I’m in a foreign smokin' orange and the police they don’t care (They don’t care)

Miami bitches call me daddy, I got Asians girls in my hotel on candy (They on

blow)

In the early two-thousands, I had purple by the truck

Back then I outta town 'em

Yeah

Spend it all and I’m gon' get it back

Goin' all out, I don’t ever relax

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Send it all and we gon' get the pack

We the first ones, ain’t gon' be the last

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I’m with my dawgs in the latest of fashion

Niggas hatin' on me 'cause my status

I been goin' so hard every day I’m in the studio trappin'

When you work for it, dawg, it’ll happen

I done put a lotta zeros in my bank account, no, it ain’t magic

Lost some homies in the struggle, that’s tragic

I done put my family on now they seen I’m smart because of my tactics

Love my squad, I got everything tatted

I got homies that I used to ride with that they say that they ratted

Hit my phone and I’m sayin' what happened

I got niggas in the streets when there’s beef and you see 'em, they clappin'

I’m just tryna stay focused, I don’t need no distraction

Spend it all and I’m gon' get it back

Goin' all out, I don’t ever relax

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Send it all and we gon' get the pack

We the first ones, ain’t gon' be the last

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Ghost

Blowin' on burner, cookies and cake

You can get hit with the zip or the tre-eight

I could blow the bag and get it back in the same day

I would send the packs in the '90s, back in the haze days

Got my second whiff off a piff, it was grade-A

When you could six for the pound, those was the heydays

I smoke plants and I eat plants

Bop with a joint in my hand, that’s the cheap dance

I told Berner and Wiz, I’ma whiz with the burner

If it ain’t hedgefund money, that shit don’t concern us

What the cash don’t get, know the credit get

Before the bank, I got thang on the arm for gangster etiquette

Southside predicate, Westside dope house

Know I’m just an entrepaneur that likes to float out

Sellin' juice, veggies and fruit, pushin' hope out

Facts, no alternative facts, we get smoked out

Spend it all and I’m gon' get it back

Goin' all out, I don’t ever relax

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Send it all and we gon' get the pack

We the first ones, ain’t gon' be the last

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Oh no, they can miss me with that

Yeah, yeah, yeah

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