🎵 Rags To Riches // by Barron Ricks

1 ContributorRags To Riches Lyrics [Intro: Barron Ricks] Yeah Yo (Yeah), for all my Harlem breaded brown motherfuckers For my niggas from the motherfuckin' Hill (Easy [?], easy) On the Hill all around, it's them big niggas [Verse 1: Barron Ricks] Fluorescent words flash signs in your mind, rhymes I find Combined with fly shit, sun enlights the blind Hold fort, rock a court when the sons change quick Concepts get flipped, more complex for hits My street slangs dangle mic cords and strangle in the quarters It's not a Ford Expedition, Land Cruiser pole position Strike first, we never ask questions, intuition When guns bust, you duck to see who's spittin', buggin' in broad daylight It's Harlem where we drive live niggas' connects We get right, dime bags for the flight Participatin' in this game of life with all cards dealt Pokerface, ready to gamble my fate away It's on the line son, to get mines, son, double-up, son The hard way, son, fate of man, son, I'm out, son [Chorus: Barron Ricks] We blow the spot, make it hot if you bob a lot Rockin' charts, cock Glocks, take over you blocks Stash weed from cops, when we bust you drop Pop the top, take shots, smash out and you drop (Drop, come on, come on,, come on, now come one) [Verse 2: B-Real] Dumb kids gone bad, mad 'cause they never had No money up in the pockets, no chance to make the cash I remember the days hustlin' to make loot fast The past never leaves me, can't afford to be greedy You'll never last, the treaty will pass if people clash Killin' each other over the money, bloodbath The path, get the riches from rags, it's toe-tags And body bags, spinnin' the wheels, rollin' the Jag' In the late night, Hollywood swingin', freakin' the shows In the House of Blues, flexin' my crew, rollin' the dough Sold the [?], I'm like the buddah tree that grows All the way up to the Heavens with seven days to go The Hill represents the climb you take on When you're sittin' on top, you gotta try and stay on Drugs, haters and evil bitches bring you down When you on the road from rags to riches, you get clowned [Chorus: Barron Ricks] We blow the spot, make it hot if you bob a lot Rockin' charts, cock Glocks, take over you blocks Stash weed from cops, when we bust you drop Pop the top, take shots, smash out and you drop (Drop, come on) [Verse 3: Chace Infinite] Put it in motion, I make thunderclaps with raps My sound sonic, penetrate the ground, fill in the cracks From the land where niggas roll [?] Sell crack and murder is a everyday act I'm in the black Jeep blunted out, sunk in the back Writin' raps, the tracks to spread across the map Connect does the sport with the solo [?] Harlem, New York From Palm Trees to Polo Ground Courts Truly yours, native Angelino Los scandalous, Los Angeles, the root of evil [?] mob killin' people, niggas emulate the latest mob movie sequel It's a everyday struggle for some but some lounge in the lab Make it out and swear to God that they never come back Regardless of the fact, most niggas return Playin' the flames and eventually one day get burned Two ways to learn, I wouldn't chose the latter Bullets penetrate throug your rib, shatter your bladder Chase from the dutch, roll like a Viper with no clutch Never pay for lust, make money, work for us [Chorus: Barron Ricks] We blow the spot, make it hot, make you bob a lot Rockin' charts, cock Glocks, take over you blocks Stash weed from cops, when we bust you drop Pop the top, take shots, smash out and you drop, nigga (Drop, come on, now come on) [Outro] Come on, now come on Drop Come on, now come on Drop Come on, now come on