Rick Ross - Nobody Feat. French Montana & Diddy

 

Lyrics to Nobody Feat. French Montana & Diddy by Rick Ross

  [Intro: Diddy] You wanted to f-ckin' walk around these roaches These n-ggas is roaches These n-ggas is mere motherf-ckin' mortals I'm tryna push you to supreme bein' You don't wanna motherf-ckin' You don't wanna embrace your destiny You wanna get by You don't wanna go into the motherf-ckin' dark Where it's lonely You can't handle the motherf-ckin', the pain Of the motherf-ckin' not knowin' when the shit is gonna stop [Hook: French Montana] Mama's tryna save me But she don't know I'm tryna save her Man, them n-ggas tried to play me Man, 'til I got this paper You're nobody 'til somebody kills you [Verse 1: Rick Ross] "Blast for me" -- the last words from my n-gga on the pavement, born killers, body shivers Drug money, dollar figures Hustlers moving out of rentals, art of war is mental Having sushi down in Nobu Strapped like an Afghan soldier, nowhere to go to So it's bang, no survivors only riders on my rider, murder rate rises Stalkin' n-ggas on their IG's, never; I be Still solo, Under Armour still Polo No wire, on fire My desire for fine things made me a liar, a shooter Gettin' high feeling like it's voodoo Nine lives, SK with the cooler Makaveli in the 'Rari, still B-I double G, I, E I pray you smoke with me Go to bed with a kilo like Casino Janet Reno, we all we got the creed of Nino Pretty cars in the driveway If you cut it then you sideways, double up, crime pays [Hook] [Interlude: Diddy] You f-ckin' wanna walk around with these n-ggas? What the f-ck is their culture? Where the f-ck is their souls at? What defines you? These n-ggas with these f-ckin' silly looks on their faces You wanna walk around with them or you wanna walk with God, n-gga? Make up your got damn mind [Verse 2: Rick Ross] I'm from where the streets test you N-ggas mix business and pleasure where the cocaine measure The narcotics is our product The by-product, you walk up on me, I cock it New Mercedes as it peels off Nothing penetrates the steel doors, gang signs, see 'em all I said my prayer as I'm countin' sheep Never really athletic, but I play for keeps, do you feel me? The mortician, the morgue fillin' with more snitches We kill 'em and taking their bitches, R.I.P Chinchillas on a winter night Black bottles when I'm feelin' like, you wanna know what winners like And I'm never on that tour bus Just a decoy for n-ggas, the PJ's for two of us Ciroc boys down to die for Diddy My n-ggas ride for less, keep it real, homie, made me filthy Touch mine until it's even kill Like I'm knowing every heathen will, closed the deal with Steven Hill We Magic City of the networks Cut a n-gga cast off, how my n-gga net worths [Hook] [Outro: Diddy] F-ck you wanna talk about? F-ckin' jewelries and Bentley's and Hublot's And f-ckin' art that n-ggas ain't got on their f-ckin' walls And f-ckin' mansions n-ggas ain't got N-ggas can't even pay the IRS, let alone their f-ckin' staff, n-gga You gotta tell the truth, man The truth'll set you free, son The truth will set you free