
Jay Z
So sick of nikkas
"I want money like Cosby" – who wouldn't?
This the kinda talk that make me think you probably ain't got no puddin'
nikkas got them kinda dreams from jail
You in the streets, nikka, make your moves, get your mail
nikkas'll coast in the SL but can't post bail
nikkas'll roast a L, but scared to throw your toast, well
I'm here to tell nikkas it ain't all swell
There's heaven, then there's hell, nikkas
One day you're cruisin' in your 7, next day, you're sweatin', forgettin' your lies
Alibis ain't matchin' up, bullshyt catchin' up
Hit with the RICO, they repo your vehicle
Everything was all good just a week ago