BLK & WHT

Rick Ross

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    A nigga black, but he selling white
    A nigga black, but he selling white
    Wanna gain it all, but you gon' lose your life
    A nigga black, but he selling white
    A nigga black, but he selling white
    Nigga crib so big it's a damn shame
    Nigga's selling white for a gold chain

    I've been trained to go since a young nigga stepped off the porch
    Catch me in the kitchen, kilo, hey bring the fork
    I've been trying to hold it down with these niggas living so foul
    Grunting out on niggas intent of knocking ya down
    Bang - your window shattered like it never mattered
    You moving weight, your pockets getting fatter
    It's politics when it come to sticks
    See mass of blood, nigga want a brick
    My money funny, but you gotta love it
    High heel thugging in Magic City, these bitches fucking
    Your homie doing tax since they call it fraud
    I'm in and out of traffic, still moving hard

    A nigga black, but he selling white
    A nigga black, but he selling white
    20 grand a night if you can get it right
    A nigga sitting in the Benz and it's white on white

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    Take a look at me, I'm trapping
    No excuses, I'm stacking, talking hundred on top of hundred
    Them 100 making the magic blow
    A hundred in a day, a hundred different ways
    Rich nigga, bitch, put a hundred in my grave
    Make my headstone read "head of MMG"
    That's another hundred mill, really, you can come and see
    Forbes dot com, I'm the Teflon Don
    Too close to a nigga as a motherfucking bomb
    Trayvon Martin, I'm never missing my target
    Bitch niggas hating, tell me it's what I'm parking
    Wingstop owner, lend me pepper aroma
    Young, black nigga, barely got a diploma

    A nigga black, but he selling white
    A nigga black, but he selling white
    20 grand a night if you can get it right
    A nigga sitting in the Phantom and it's white on white
    A nigga black, but he selling white
    A nigga black, but he selling white
    20 grand a night if you can get it right
    A nigga sitting in the Benz and it's white on white

    Showing 'til the day I die, I'mma look up at the sky
    Young trap star, reap, the world is mine
    Proceeding with my grind like police is on my line
    Instagramming shit for all the teachers I despised
    Never saw my vision, you only saw me suspended
    Now my white bitches be fucking me 'til I'm windy
    Breathe, breathe, young nigga, breathe
    If your ass wasn't rapping, what would you be?

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Ric Ross y Caroline Glaser

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