Stalley - Hell's Angels (American Heathens) lyrics

[Verse 1: Stalley] I been in so much gold lately, pistol close and it's off safety n***as smilin' in my face, but they all hate me and it's all gravy See I ain't playin' no games I'mma ball crazy, I ball baby Throw this money up high, now let it fall lazy Tip drills for the quick thrills, don't tease I wanna feel it all baby Clicquot and Don Peri, can't forget that loud pack Bud smoke everywhere, I'm around that Made a lil money this year, now everybody they countin' that New house with a new spouse, cars parked out where the fountain at I love that feeling of bouncing back Blue Collar still my grind, green backs on my mind Nobody workin' than I'm, my n***a still throwin' out that iron Tryna iron out they situations with feds all on they line So we talk low and we park slow and watch out for one time These wild n***as that's out they mind, they'll crowd your whip and pound that nine Till the clip is empty, they'll rip your Bentley with shells all in your spine That's just jealous envy, see Hell ain't picky When it's your time, it's your time [Interlude: Rick Ross] Real n***as done linked up world wide now… It's untouchable now, it's unstoppable now… Regardless of how it go down n***a, you gone die a legend n***a… [Verse 2: Rick Ross] I got a star on my sneakers and they made by Chuck Taylor I'm a star in the ghetto I swear C-Murda my neighbor Bought me a Corvette motor, put a Super Charger on it From the bus stop it's sounding like a damn train rollin' Ain't a damn thing foldin', everything still standing Pull up, hop out, shoot up this b**h like Jonathan Mannion All the cars still candy all the girls light skinned And they well educated, it's still n***as stuck on stupid I say f** all my haters, then I f** all they ladies Who the f** you think you are in this f**in' Mercedes It's the boss b**h, so go tell your boss b**h Hammerman off the hook, don't make me hit your off switch [Interlude 2: Rick Ross] Like a damn train rollin', ain't a damn thing foldin'… He strapped, I'm strapped… You got that right?… Come on… [Verse 3: Stalley] I'm strapped up like bamboo, talons and hollows my ammo Shoulder straps like Rambo, don't fill them clips too high though I learned that from B.I Don't keep too many in my ride, learned that from T.I And stay away from them P.I.'s Got the Milk buzzin' like beehives, nobody does it like these guys Ski-mask when we rides, jump out boys we known to take Home invasion with guns in your face, kids tied up and thrown in the lakes We ain't choppin' fingers, we poppin' Nina's and skate We just some dirty kids that ain't ate, tryna fill up that plate We done chopped grams, and plotted plans to plan our escape But we still in this trap though, and it's feelin' like a trapdoor Slow motion, money that slow Pick up the van then pick up my mans, we comin' for that cash-flow Beard longer than Castro's, put fear up in these a**holes Mack Eleven with the air holes Tearin' souls when I bear hold this trigga When I'm blackin' out and no backin' out, I be clear with a n***a