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letra de ghost rivers to the riches - styles p

[verse 1: chris rivers]
when i was five-years-old, pops had the glocks in the stove
run around and out for fifties, that’s the cops in the cold
stackin’ feta green, double-platinum (-) and leather seams
stack more cheddar better than fellas who praisin’ halloween
all for the love of show money, that vat money
that trap money, packin’-macs-in-back-of-the-ac’ money
n-ggas act funny, but know ha-ha sh-t
i been post since age six, startin’ some rah-rah sh-t
when i get it backwards, i rap words that crack earth
n-ggas stack birds, i cry for a collapsed earth
f-ck it, rap nerd, ’bout to get it like crack worth
n-ggas spit like he vomit in comets, or that’s (-)
get the hustle in my veins, got the muscles in my brain
ain’t no puzzles in this game, you put in work a state of shame
see the seabus lights, sinkin’ mikes and i ain’t eatin’ right
i don’t want to wait until i die broke to see the light
i wore cadillacs from rappin’ raps, spit words like acrobats
backflip, rich (-) give you cataphracts
mom, i need the mansion by the body of water
so i bodied this verse, then i body your daughter
s-xually, i’m on the road to riches
b-tches’ll act when he talkin’ swiss
bank accounts’ll make you (-) to (-)
i’m just a cool g that raps, tryin’ to see these stacks
and bring hip-hop back, f-ck all the memory

[verse 2: styles p]
yo, chris p-ssed the sh-t to master it
got a light, point at the house and gas the sh-t
and i ain’t even halfway p-ssed, i’m hazardous
gun pop right up in your (-)
let me slow down, make it a ghost town
probably with a goon-n-gga smokin’ a roach down
it’s the k!ller on the west side highway, tu madre
and get battered down like a plate for the padres
benz color the garvey, not for lookin’
i don’t know the plug name, but he’s hector-lookin’
what’s the price? never too much, never too much
you ain’t for much, gun at the trainer tearin’ your core up
lane with a pump on a bump of your tour bus
keep talkin’ sh-t, my n-gga, and get your jaw cut
or your wh0r- f-cked like a prost-tute
plug one like pasta (-)
if it’s beef, then i gots to shoot, gots to stab
keepin’ it hundred, who want to get chopped in half?
n0body, i know this, i did lots of math
you ain’t gots to touch the work, you ain’t got the cash
and i left the wax home, but i got the hash
and chris got the guns, i got the m-ss
like m.o.p., n-gga, yeah, we gots to mash
guess you n-ggas find out when you pop in half

- styles p

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