Black Badge
Mandela, Margiela
Rolls Royce Cullian Dreams
This life shit ain't what seems
Front page of the magazine
Rolex bust downs for the team
You know I ride for the team
Call Jacob the jeweler
100 roses for my bitch if she give me medulla
12 pack in the cooler
You said your homie a shooter
But he ain't good with aim
Said your homie a dealer
But he ain't good with the caine
You ain't gotta explain
We ain't know that you were part of the gang
We ain't know the typa corners hang
Hennessy in the back
For the niggas we lost and for the niggas we gained
But I can never complain, I can never complain
Khale sela re spana
Re sa robale ka nako
Robile le lemelao
Ra nyako khalisa cargo
Now we out in the north
You can tell by hills
Fresh air when I breath
You don't know it feels
You don't know the type shit that it takes
You don't know you gotta struggle
Gotta make some mistakes
See the real can never hang with fakes
You know how it tastes
Blue cheese be on top of the steaks
White leather same color as Kate
The back seat got me feeling like I travel in space
Boom gates when I get to estates
I ain't even gotta talk
Bet they know all my names
Bet they know where I stay
And they know where I blom
Said I don't like champagne
I don't like Chandon
Told her to mize those ribs
Gotta filet mignon, cabinet Sauvignon
When I wanna show off
I got impeccable taste
You can tell by the sauce
No conversation with the man in middle
I'm going straight to the source
That's what you do when you really a boss, man
That's what you do when you really a boss, man
Khale sela re le mo
Re sokola, re sna plaan
They wanna know about where going
Wanna know about what we doing
Mara haena flopo keep it going
Keep it quiet on the low
O ska jumpisa, no no no
O ska jumpisa, no no no no no no no
O ska jumpisa, no no no no
Rolls Royce Cullian Dreams
This life shit ain't what seems
Front page of the magazine
Rolex bust downs for the team
You know I ride for the team
Call Jacob the jeweler
100 roses for my bitch if she give me medulla
12 pack in the cooler
You said your homie a shooter
But he ain't good with aim
Said your homie a dealer
But he ain't good with the caine
You ain't gotta explain
We ain't know that you were part of the gang
We ain't know the typa corners hang
Hennessy in the back
For the niggas we lost and for the niggas we gained
But I can never complain, I can never complain
Khale sela re spana
Re sa robale ka nako
Robile le lemelao
Ra nyako khalisa cargo
Now we out in the north
You can tell by hills
Fresh air when I breath
You don't know it feels
You don't know the type shit that it takes
You don't know you gotta struggle
Gotta make some mistakes
See the real can never hang with fakes
You know how it tastes
Blue cheese be on top of the steaks
White leather same color as Kate
The back seat got me feeling like I travel in space
Boom gates when I get to estates
I ain't even gotta talk
Bet they know all my names
Bet they know where I stay
And they know where I blom
Said I don't like champagne
I don't like Chandon
Told her to mize those ribs
Gotta filet mignon, cabinet Sauvignon
When I wanna show off
I got impeccable taste
You can tell by the sauce
No conversation with the man in middle
I'm going straight to the source
That's what you do when you really a boss, man
That's what you do when you really a boss, man
Khale sela re le mo
Re sokola, re sna plaan
They wanna know about where going
Wanna know about what we doing
Mara haena flopo keep it going
Keep it quiet on the low
O ska jumpisa, no no no
O ska jumpisa, no no no no no no no
O ska jumpisa, no no no no
Credits
Writer(s): Moleke Mathabatha
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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