Future

[Intro: DJ Khaled]
I am the streets, the future
I introduce you to Ace Hood, Meek Millz
Big Sean, Wale, Vado, this the future
They getting money, they making hit records, they hustling

[Verse 1: Ace Hood]
Okay now Khaled told me kill em, he just told me kill em
Hundred for the Beamer, kudos for the dealer
Murder bet I wrote her, kudos to the killer
Chevy sitting crooked, teeth on Reggie Miller
I’m a motherfucking beast see me in your sleep
Nightmare on any street
Swear I will murk any beat
Spread this to the industry, lyrics like the chopper piece
Flow right through your fitted T, pull this loot 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, third 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
Talking Siamese
Twin pistol shooter nigga like a 7B
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 the G-U-T-T-A, hops in the whip and I gotta get paid
F*** them bitches, ain’t trying to get laid
Walk in my house you can meet my maid
Any given day you can push that Lac
Push that Benz on, push that ‘Lade, hop to the whip
No top on mine, niggas gonna hate, man f*** them guys
Real nigga shit, don’t tell no lie
Private plane, my seat recline
Top ten charts, where I reside
Got me a house, about to sign

We the motherfucking best, word to my Mama
Ride Presidential got me feeling like Obama
Cause all I want is 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 em way back
When I was starving now it’s payback
Nigga where that cake at
Murder all your artists
And I can feel that love, I can feel that hate
When I got that drum, I just feel so safe
I put it to your mug, and it ain’t gonna wait
When that thing gon fly
Got a little kick, but it ain’t no tire
Niggas talk murder, but they ain’t gon ride
Now we going hard like I ain’t gonna die
Meek Mill

Do it, okay, okay
Smoke until I ain’t got no lungs
Got her going down, no teeth
I call it speaking tongues
Do it, do it
Now you speaking my language
When they twist and talk with they fingers
Man but this ain’t no sign language
Just fresh out of the ashes it’s a Detroit fuc*** classic from when
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
Cause you’re most likely to crash
F*** it, good thing I got a chauffeur
Going broke, no sir
Bitch I’m the rap game stylist cause I gave the rap game style bitch
But I overshine ain’t no niggas over Sean
Told em it’s five quarters so I guess we going overtime
Till we’re Dumb high, dumb high
Westside, bitch I run mine
I’m rolling around in my old school, I feel like the alumni
Fuc*** hoes, no strings attached
So don’t ask me why they strung out
I’m like Jordan to you niggas
I might even stick my tongue out
She wiggled and wobble/bobbled
Then landed 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 em 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 saying she’s proud

Forever dedicated, Maybach poetic genius
Some think they close to seeing me
Tell em they close to Stevie
You poser niggas apose be here
We don’t believe ya. Y’all run them ?
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’s more productive than others
Married to Winnie, he think he really Nelson Mandela
That’s fire though
One time for the 305, though
That hydro make me tired, yo
My kick game be so Tae-Bo
My balance be so tight rope
That’s hard to find Quick Tri-Flow
Can’t f*** with me, y’all dyke flow
Hoes blow for me, I maestro, shit
That white whip sit like a slight wrist slit
Suicide shit, you can by shit if you write this shit
Right this minute, they say I’m buzzing hard
My driver’s out of this world, you playing bumper cars
You niggas under cars you should be unemployed
All you smokers Reggie I’m in the telley making a bunch of noise
Who gon tell me that I ain’t going or I ain’t flowing
Young Folarin, you see them Pewters
That was my influence

[Verse 4: Vado]
The twin towers fell
Turning to Ground Zero
Kids ain’t like Reggie Jackson, Nicki Barnes their hero
As I play Rothstein, Corleone like Bob De Niro
Been through it we’re here though, don’t move with the weirdos
Dress pimping-like and toast like less when
Your house is on West and Fourth, mine is on West Sixth
While I ride this Maserati, Rick and his best friends
When I die tell them to turn my coffin to stretch Benz
Rims on it, problems my men’s on it
See him we stomp him out his mouth our Timbs on it
Always smoking an ounce amount, no tens on it
Spins on it, you have no clout depends on it
What the feigns say, few roaches you need spray
On tours, we straight making sure lawyer fees paid
Get the bills due, Mildew SRT-8
Charcoal seats gray, drop tops like release dates
Vado