Cuban Links

Too many visions of coliseums
If I ain't a God I gotta see em
It's too many niggas that wanna be em
Picture me up wit ya BM I flewd her out from the DM
Little me young Ceno from the three
All about my ABC's I started out a little G
Had to shift a couple G's
I graduated to ah P
After that I got some keys
They should of called me Pusha T
I had bigger dreams set up my goals
Yea they know I'm still ready for smoke
I send my goons they be right at ya door
I send them wolves they be right at ya throat
Cold winter you know whats under that coat
Lord willing I really get to use my God given
Gifts cause shit could switch and click it's back to robbin niggas
If he ain't wit the shit the clip its back to barrin niggas
He think he king of the jungle then I guess I'm scarrin niggas
Now let me show you how a God livin
Drop 200 on a crib I used to dream this as a kid
From sleepin on them couches I ain't even have a bed
I was thuggin had to get it how I live

Yea
And now we livin larger than life
Got the broads and the cars and we all feeling nice
And we all got a dog you don't wanna dog fight
We goin be the ones to make it tonight

Uh
From gold rope chains to Cuban links
From baggin the work up right by the sink
From buyin some shit that I cant afford
Its funny cause I still count the money on the floor



Credits
Writer(s): Vincent Minto
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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