The Drill — текст песни

Damn, thank god momma son made it at twenty three

Still remembering a struggle hidden deep in me

Momma gone, ain’t no single daddy memory

I became my own man the age of seventeen

Trying make this money flip like it’s a trampoline

I was hard headed, grandfather diabetic

I was trying do it big, like I was Faith Evans

Praying to the heavens, I can see my daughter smile

Know she watching now that daddy rip this record down

Know I love you baby, tell my god I said whatup'

And know I seen em' just meeting ends, so my family up

I should pray harder, instead I tote a pistol

Speed dollar killers running if I ever whistle

Real nigga, that’s just my genetics

Hustle hard got my money doing calisthenics

I stretch paper, every dollar bill

Hook:

Niggas cry tears, when I see my first mill (First Mill)

Bad bitch wit' me bet she know the drill

Bad bitch wit' me bet she know the drill

Bad bad bitch wit' me bet she know the drill

The Game:

I gotta' bad bitch wit' me, and she know the drill

And she know my ex, X pill

She only listen to me, Ace, and Meek Mill

I told her tat my name on it, so I know it’s real

She know the value of a dollar bill

She know how real or fake them counterfeit hunded’s feel

She know the difference between Derrick Rose and D-Wade

She know the difference between being broke and stayin', paid

She know the difference between vuve and spades

She know the difference between warrants and raids

Never confuse when talkin' Glocks and dem' K’s

Show her the shoe, she put a number on dem' J’s

Like, it dem' is cool grays

I’m like, dem' is cool shades

I’m like, dem' is Spike Lee’s

She like, yeah schooldays

And she bang the documentary still

Said that motherfucka' cold, yeah, Buffalo Bill

Hook:

Meek Mill:

I ain’t never ran from nobody, and I never will

Lunch time on these niggas, cuz' I’m on my second meal

I just dropped a mixtape, lookin' like my second deal

Club LIV, thirty bottles, and I’m on my second bill

And I be gettin' high as my electric bill

Ask bout' me in the hood, they say I’m extra real

Cuz' ain’t nobody never rob me, I ain’t never squeal

And ain’t nobody never try, my niggas love to kill

Ridin' round wit' chuck, but it ain’t a game though

My black wall niggas told me you a lame though

The Glock got a beam on it, like Kano

Banana clips and lemon squeeze’s, just to split your mango

My down bitch, never count the counterfeit

Cuz' you know the real from fake, I had to 'round some shit

Before I ever thought of rap, I had a pound to get

And the piece is steel, I never thought I see a mill

Hook: