Triple Beam Dreams Testo

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Testo Triple Beam Dreams

[Intro: Rick Ross]
It's time to take you to the other side
The side you gotta watch your A&E cable television for homie
But we live this shit
I'm not a star, well that's a lie
I seen a man raise his hand on the stand he testified
Spoke on a homicide amongst other things
Even share my triple beam dreams

[Verse 1: Nas]
A project minded individual, criminal tactics
Us black kids born with birth defects, we hyperactive
Mentally sex-crazed, dysfunctional they describe us
They liars, the end of the day, we fuckin survivors
I remember watching Scarface the first time
Look at that big house, that Porsche paid for by crime
How could I sell this poison to my people's in my mind?
They dumb and destroy themselves is how I rationalize
In a bastardized nation, magnum.45 carrying
Where I'm from ain't far from Washington Heights to cop Aryan
A rookie boy, the cookie didn't make no profit
A stranger to the block, I damn her had to make them cop it
It only took a fiend to taste it once to say it's garbage
I brought it back to papi, ain't trying to take no losses
He focuses on my emotionless young dealer face then pauses
He gives me powder, he has faith in Nas' ambitions to distribute coke
Had addictions to gold chains, Mercedes Benz hopes, but I'm again broke
This shit ain't cut for me, other dealers, they up their orders
Barely at 62s, they already up the quotas
Y'all out there every day, true hustlers for you
I'm at it half way, none of my customers are loyal
Picturing piping out the seats of a Pathfinder
Powerful pursuit for pussy, cash to flash diamonds
My junior high school class, wish I stayed there
Illegal entrepreneur, I got my grades there
Blaming society, mad, it wasn't made fair
I would be Ivy League if America played fair
Poor excuse, and so I was
Throwing rocks at the pen just for the love
Before the evil, the secret life of G's
You seeing my blurry, triple beam dreams

[Hook: Rick Ross]
Pocket full of money, parking lot full of them haters
Triple beam dreaming, crib with 2 elevators
20 flat screens and got cameras every angle
Dope been coming so you know the income major
Rule number 1: I can't do business with a stranger
Contract killers coming when I feel in danger
Early 90s reminiscing when I had a pager
Triple beam dreams: now Pat Riley my neighbor

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
Fuck boy talking out of turn nigga
In the court room, spreading like a germ nigga
25 on the line, them niggas dropping dimes
Whole operation got them rednecks dropping time
Khaki suits and some niggas go to acting cute
We was all cool, stacking in Acura coupes
More accurately, we acted as is if jacking was cool
Snatching niggas out they shoes then wear jackets to school
Fuck boy you caught up in my dream
Countin cream on the cover of a magazine
I'm the source, got the plug with the uncut
Jay-Z Blue Magic nigga, what what
Brand new S Class with a meal ticket
Nigga cocaine white as Tommy Hilfiger
Ralph Lauren Blue Label as I'm gettin high
Triple deam dreamin as the cream multiples
Fuck boy talkin out of turn nigga
'Fore you sell dope, it's shit you gotta learn nigga
Home invasions, duct tape
Fornicating, counting money with a fuck face
Fucking bitches that be giving up your whereabouts
Slow leaks, gotta air em out
Kill em all, Rolls Royce, ghost nigga, ball
Phantom drop head, shit I had to get em all
Niggas hate but they know they never get involved
Food on the plate, fuck em all like a [?]
Triple beam dreams, the ghetto's my reality
I'm from where your hustle determines your salary
Six figure family member, nigga forget about it
Low income housing, nigga trying to get up out it
I got a plan little nigga, just believe in me
Triple beam dreamin with this thing in me