U-God - Mount Everest lyrics

rate me

I make ‘em nod like paedamin

See them live might dive off the mexamine

Ground drama, sound harder than crowd bonkers

I’m ‘bout dollars, I touch down in your town, holla

IMS, gladiator, call him Russell Crowe

Son of pro, watch these lame niggas come and go

Blessed with the poison pen, murder was the case so I guess it’s them boys again

Through your duce high, salute eyes, be the general, the last one to run

I will take all ten of you, I’m feeling myself BK whiling the belt

Rocking my shit, eyes on the real wealth

Me and Goldie tell ‘em it’s easy money

Now shorty wanna fuck, that’s sleazy, honey

Fame call us, money, it change all us

Get it how you live it or sing the same chorus

The game taught us, nothing in the bank for us

W claim walrus, yeah, we tank for life

Was raised on the island of the misfits

The children of the corn snatch your green with the biscuits

It’s what you might call food for thought

And what’s the killer season if you don’t include the shot

This cross will start a feud and leave your whole mood distraught

Used to feel safe until they unscrewed vault and

Took your common sense out your memory bank

Then dumped on you like missiles over enemy tanks

So homie, drop slow like you in front of five O

‘Cause force go in the raw and your back is where the knives go

Ride the attic, hiding silver spoons

Being cut so deep, it’s hard to heal the wounds

Those flashing don’t blast, they still buffoons

Just blowing on hot air, they should fill balloons

Yo, I like them shorties that’ll kill for goons

And start a hustle in an apron to cut wheels and tunes

I want leverage, ice cold beverage

Money I can’t count, I blacked out standing on Mount Everest

Live lessons, the cover of essence

It’s pure excellence parting right down my measurements

Politic the deficit, fingerprints, no evidence

Cocaine, caviar, hitting on receptionists

Hang with the specialists, go medalist

Presidential grant, eating stakes that’s tenderous

Got my brand, catch me in Megan Fox’ bed

Cash clock, Gucci, IPad, bag

It’s all black, top Nikes, you fat lazies

Riches from rags, cash and diamond faces

Got promoted up, friends up in high places

Next move, my best move, chess move, the strategy

Closet full of guns, son, none…

Get off that bullshit, that hip hop faggotry

I’m highbred nigga worth five gravity

Clothes never raggedy, oil painting of me displayed up in gallery

Capture me, Wu Tang forever, immortality

High salary, blessing from a mother named Valery

And my two sons named Anthony

Racks from stacks, quickly I’m browsing

First class ticket to the moon only cost 50 000

Niggas be doubting, it’s understood, I’m running with goons

One of a kind, imported goods, killer the hood

Consume me, Lord, the last time I checked got 50 points in your voice

Good Lord