Текст песни Houston Old Head, A$AP Rocky
[Verse 1:]
Smokin', rollin' reefer up, I adjust the tweakers up,
Break it, break it down, break it down so I can beat it up.
Where the welcome back? Where the ‘Welcome' mat? My sneaker tough,
This is for my old head, go on turn your speakers up.
Rocky, where you been? I been tryna make my ends meet,
So I can cop that Bathing Ape or Jeremy Scot,t or 10 Deep.
Bottles full of Rosé, ridin' in the Benz jeep,
Blowin' money fast, now I'm finna think I'm Big Meech.
I met with my old head, we sat for a while,
We rolled a couple swishers, we chat for a while,
I said, “I'm just on my grind I come to Houston all the time.”
He said, “What's been goin' down in your New York state of mind”
“Fine, you ever got days you feel like givin' up?
Like how you gon' eat when this gig is up.
When the chips is down and the jig is up?”
But I don't give a fuck, roll another swisher up,
‘Cause I just came here down South so I could get these pounds out,
And move my mother nice somewhere closer than a town house,
And my beats bangin', kickin' harder than a roundhouse,
I spoke with my old head and this is what I found out...
[Chorus – ×2:]
Life is just a bitch, a bitch is like a ho,
Hoes want the money, money come and goes,
Friends turn to foes, foes they be fake,
If you listen when ya old head talkin', you'll be straight.
[Verse 2:]
Now my old head old age, bald head, Rogaine,
Code red codeine, nose red cocaine,
Pimpin' bitches since lemon chicken shrimp lo mein,
Gold chains, afros, platforms, Soul Train.
And he told me 'bout that rappin' trappin' in the old days,
When Pac hung with Suge before that rat-tat-tat-tat, nose rings,
And I'm so high I could fuck around and grow wings,
And we sippin' on something purpler than Soul Plane.
We sip slow, slow swing, tip four's and chrome wings,
Told me I should head home and do my own thang,
Then I heard my phone rang, hold up, that's my old dame,
Pick it up, I hit you back, miss me and I miss you back.
She said, “Harlem miss you too, and they can't wait to get you back.
You should come on home, leave the drugs alone and stick to rap,
Just don't come back flossin' ‘cause that type of shit'll get you clapped.”
[Chorus – ×2:]
Life is just a bitch, a bitch is like a ho,
Hoes want the money, money come and goes,
Friends turn to foes, foes they be fake,
If you listen when ya old head talkin', you'll be straight.
Smokin', rollin' reefer up, I adjust the tweakers up,
Break it, break it down, break it down so I can beat it up.
Where the welcome back? Where the ‘Welcome' mat? My sneaker tough,
This is for my old head, go on turn your speakers up.
Rocky, where you been? I been tryna make my ends meet,
So I can cop that Bathing Ape or Jeremy Scot,t or 10 Deep.
Bottles full of Rosé, ridin' in the Benz jeep,
Blowin' money fast, now I'm finna think I'm Big Meech.
I met with my old head, we sat for a while,
We rolled a couple swishers, we chat for a while,
I said, “I'm just on my grind I come to Houston all the time.”
He said, “What's been goin' down in your New York state of mind”
“Fine, you ever got days you feel like givin' up?
Like how you gon' eat when this gig is up.
When the chips is down and the jig is up?”
But I don't give a fuck, roll another swisher up,
‘Cause I just came here down South so I could get these pounds out,
And move my mother nice somewhere closer than a town house,
And my beats bangin', kickin' harder than a roundhouse,
I spoke with my old head and this is what I found out...
[Chorus – ×2:]
Life is just a bitch, a bitch is like a ho,
Hoes want the money, money come and goes,
Friends turn to foes, foes they be fake,
If you listen when ya old head talkin', you'll be straight.
[Verse 2:]
Now my old head old age, bald head, Rogaine,
Code red codeine, nose red cocaine,
Pimpin' bitches since lemon chicken shrimp lo mein,
Gold chains, afros, platforms, Soul Train.
And he told me 'bout that rappin' trappin' in the old days,
When Pac hung with Suge before that rat-tat-tat-tat, nose rings,
And I'm so high I could fuck around and grow wings,
And we sippin' on something purpler than Soul Plane.
We sip slow, slow swing, tip four's and chrome wings,
Told me I should head home and do my own thang,
Then I heard my phone rang, hold up, that's my old dame,
Pick it up, I hit you back, miss me and I miss you back.
She said, “Harlem miss you too, and they can't wait to get you back.
You should come on home, leave the drugs alone and stick to rap,
Just don't come back flossin' ‘cause that type of shit'll get you clapped.”
[Chorus – ×2:]
Life is just a bitch, a bitch is like a ho,
Hoes want the money, money come and goes,
Friends turn to foes, foes they be fake,
If you listen when ya old head talkin', you'll be straight.
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