Young Roddy - Armoire lyrics

[Verse 1: Curren$y] For Cuban linx Yellow gold, January cold, my mink I'm from the the school of old, check out my ring I won a super bowl of hash,I saw the Mona Lisa blink Not falling off my a** Cause I lean like the Tower of Pisa on stained gla** At the church, funeral services for this beat n***as tryna steal my style, I can hear 'em in my sleep Like young thieves outside tryna break in your Z 28 or your Double S, they hit your Trans-Am For your big nose hood and you know them fools man And I swear that ain't no good, but I'm not surprised Cause it's all fair in the game Of f**ing these b**hes due to your street fame This sh**'s wicked, deserves a documentary Deadstocks on my feet, I'm walking ancient history n***as is beast hype, tryna be like what we write Ain't nothing but that Jet Life [Hook: Trademark (& Young Roddy)] I'm talking stacks in the walls, floors, ceilings A house made of money, feel what I'm building (Cause this rap sh** just my hustle baby, we paper chasing) (Cause this rap sh** just my hustle baby, we paper chasing) I'm talking pounds in the fridge, hundred stack in the armoire Constant reminders of what the f** we grind for (Cause this rap sh** just my hustle baby, we paper chasing) (Cause this rap sh** just my hustle baby, we paper chasing) [Verse 2: Curren$y] Still at it, Jet Set mathematics I'm, from the city of choppers clappers and levee crackage All levels completed, b**h I'm All-Madden Smoking out the E-Cla** wagon It's just that "to the airport" action, I am more Mr. 2 Door Still running triple O game on my new hoes More than one time was I told that I was too cold Gucci Mane, tryna be grizzly burr on these hoes Foundation laid, and from that, a mansion rose When my driver bring yo b**hes home, ask her how that Caddy roll You can tell that she was with daddy, just smell her clothes Money and smoke, that's all I know [Hook]