Paroles de Midnight Oil
All you do is just make up your mindBut you gotta do something
The key to life is your attitude
Make sure you're doin' what you wanna do
Your goals can unfold right before your eyes
But you gotta have some priorities and all that
Bought houses off the wrist (Ah)
Half a kick for the fit (Uh)
Barricades on the block (Numbers)
'Nother nigga got— (Church)
'Nother nigga got ten (Uh)
Squeezin' 'til the Glock— (Shh, good job)
Squeezin' 'til the Glock jam (Jam)
Niggas know I'm top tier (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Fastin' in the mornin' (Man)
I'm casual with my garments (Casual)
South of France, smokin' (Smokin')
But hold on, I got more shit (Damn)
Hold on, I got motion (Yeah)
Hold on, I don't know him
Chill out with that bro shit (This might be the greatest escape, nigga, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, damn)
Got my feet wet when I was seventeen (Shit)
First time cruisin' down the blade was like a movie scene (Oh)
We was rockin' Nike tech suits in 2013 (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Twenty-thousand hangin' out my pocket, hooker clockin' cheese (Damn, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Two hits of the numb numb juice still couldn't knock me off the caboose (Alright, soowoo)
Don't get it fucked up, boo (Nah)
No ho, we don't love you
Like Pepé Le Pew, three riders in ski mask
Lookin' like TRU, no duck, duck, goose
Just dump, dump, shoot (Doot-doot-doot)
Fuck with the fuck 'round too, homie, this four deep deuce (Westside)
P Worthy, the reputable
Turn opps into vegetables (Remind you)
That's just how the section rolls
The homies turn two in fours (Fours in twos, eights in nines)
Payin' those 'round here ain't enough, we wanna know what set you from
Et cetera, et cetera
I do it way better, blood (Come on)
Don't talk, better beep this ho, I was never the one (Not yet)
Only kept that bitch around for the funds, it was never for fun (Pimpin')
All you get is some hand-me-down Uggs
Shout outs to Yambo, damn, I miss my son (Wavy Bone)
Church, like I'm the heavenly one (Heavenly one)
Countin' hundreds in a two piece with a top hat like I'm Reverend Run
Chasin' the paper like it was runnin' from me
I'm in the spot countin' hundreds until my thumbs is bloody
That's the only way for me to sit up comfortable like Dutch & Bumpy
I clutch a pump, dump it, and jump a country
Might be in London speakin' bluntly
One sniff of the pure got your bitch's nerves all twitchy and jumpy (Man, cool out, cool out)
Comin' down the block like a slinky dink
Whisky on the rock with the pinky ring
Bucket hat with the wrinkled brim
I'm in the water where it's sink or swim
Doin' math on the abacus
Already made the nickel, I'm thinkin' tin
Wavin' flags like a matador
Already got the juice on, drinkin' gin (Gin straight)
I'm a product of the '70s (Yeah)
The Gottis and the Jenevis
We left bodies buried in the desert, paid off crooked cops and deputies
Without even carryin' a weapon, cut a tongue out for talkin' recklessly (What you say?)
On the scale, I'm too various to measure, all my soldiers, they walk in step with me (Walk)
From the trenches to the park benches
No one can escape what is getting ready to come upon us
Somebody will have to say something to have some credibility
And cornin' those who are cornable
Everybody won't make it in...
