Future

[Intro: DJ Khaled] 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 [Verse 1: Ace Hood] 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 [Verse 2: Meek Mill] 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 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 [Big Sean] 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 [Wale] 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 [Verse 4: Vado] 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