Future (feat. Ace Hood, Wale, Meek Mill, Vado & Big Sean)

I am the streets, the future Iduce you to Ace Hood, Meek Mills, Big Sean, Wale, Vado This the future They getting money, they making hit records They hustling Okay now Khaled told me kill them He just told me kill them Hundred for the Beamer Kudos to the dealer Murder, bet I wrote it Kudos to the killers Chevy sitting crooked Keep the Reggie Miller I'm a motherfucking beast See me in your sleep Nightmare on any street Swear I will mark any beat Spread this to the industry Lyrics like a chopper piece Blow right through your fitted T Pull this through 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, 3rd 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, tote the Siamese Twin pistol, shoot nigga like a 7D 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 I'm G-U-T-T-A, hop in the whip and I got to get paid Fuck them bitches, ain't trying to get laid Walk in my house, you can meet my maid Any given day I'ma push that 'Lac Push that Benz on, I'ma push that lake Hop to the whip, no top on mine Hear a nigga hate, man fuck them guys Real nigga shit, don't tell no lie Private plane, my seat recline Top ten charts where I reside Come to your house and run inside Meek Mill! We the motherfucking best Word to my mama Rock presidential, got me feeling like Obama Because all I wanted was 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 them way back When I was starving, now it's payback Nigga where that cake at? Murder all your artists And I, I, I can feel that love, but I feel that hate When I got that slug, I just feel so safe I put it to your mug, it ain't gone wait It go away when that thing gone fly Got a little kick, but it ain't no tire Niggas try murder, but they ain't gone ride Let me go hard like I ain't going to die Meek Mill! Smoke until I got no lungs Got her going down, no teeth I call it "speaking tongues" Do it! Do it! Now you speaking my language From where they twist and talk with they fingers Man, but this ain't no sign language Yes, fresh out of the ashes it's a Detroit fucking classic From where 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 Because you're most likely to crash Fuck it! Good thing I got a chauffeur, chauffeur Going broke? No sir! Bitch I'm a rap game stylist, because I gave the rap game style, bitch But I over shine Ain't no niggas over shine Told them "Roll up five quarters" so I guess we're going overtime Till we 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 need to stick my tongue out She wiggled and wobble, bobbled Then land 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 them 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 say, and she proud Forever dedicated, made my poetic genius Some think they close to seeing me Tell them they close to Stevie You poser niggas ain't supposed to be here We don't believe you Double MG, and 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 is more productive than others Murray the winner, he think he really Nelson Mandela That's fire though, one time for the 305, though That hydro make me tired, yo My kicking be so Tai Bo! My balance be so tight rope That's hard to find, quick try flow Give up with me, that knife flow Hold over me, I'm maestro, shit That white whip sit Like a slight wrist slit Suicide shit, you can by shit, if you write this shit Nigga, and right this minute, they say I'm buzzing hard My driver's out of this world, you playing bumper cars. You niggas under cause You should be unemployed All you smoke is Reggie, I'm in the tellie, bunch of noise Who gone tell me that I ain't going, that I ain't flowing? Young Folarin, you see them puters That was my influence The towers fell Turn into Ground Zero Kissing like Reggie Jackson, Nicky Barnes, they hero As I play Rothstein Corleone like Rob De Niro Been through it, but here though Dope move in the weirdos Dress pimping the toast like let's win Your house is on West and 4th pipes and Lex win While me in a Maserati bricking his best friends When I die, tell them to turn my coffin to stretch Benz Rims on it, problems? My man's on See him, we stomp him out His mouth, my Timbs' on it Only smoking a ounce, a mountain, no tens on it Spins on it, you have no cloud, the Benz on it What the fiends say? Few roses, you need spray, on tours, eat straight Making sure all your feet sprayed Get the pills through, peel through SRT-8 Trunk on, seats gray, drop tops like release dates Vado