Fountain of Youth (feat. Rick Ross & Nipsey Hussle)

Fountain of youth
May our legacies live forever
Hunh

All my niggas quiet but we burning loud
Makaveli to the max: never turn it down
Mac 11 in a Benz: how you like me now?
I run the city so my closet look like Nike Town
Niggas talking like bitches -- is it my income?
Am I fucking your bitches? Is it official?
My nigga did a dime, didn't learn a thing from it
Came home, in two weeks got him a 600
Get a text from the boss: you know them bricks coming
Chicks at the beach house like they gonna miss something
From the churches I rose, only loving the dough
From the Chevy to Rolls, now it's fur on the floor
Smoke an ounce of the truth: that's my fountain of youth
R.I.P. to Mr. Shakur, this one is for you
Nippsey Hussle and I got my nigga Stalley on it
Double MG burning out in Cali on it

Stained glass window in the Benzo
Lost in the instrumental
Keys got me sentimental

These rap books buried in gold
The treasure of a million men, Versace shades trimmed in gold
My life's big like them cameras explode
Capture this rags to riches story that I unfold
The youth fountain for the few counting
Made money, but who's counting?
It's hard stunting living in subsidized housing
Every bag you bring though the door, dude's counting
And every new girl you bring through, dude's hounding
They want your youth, so they watch your moves
From your pinky ring, down to how you lace your shoes
Rope chains with the precious jewels
The dope game had impression rules
What they did with cocaine and a couple spoons
Had the whole hood acting like goons
Trying to be the richest, trying to the be flyest
Claim to be balling, end up like Len Bias
Screaming from the bottom of this fountain here, nothing but silence

Stained glass window in the Benzo
Lost in the instrumental
Keys got me sentimental

Laces in my blue Chucks, represent my bros first
Staring at my Rollie bezel as I soul-search
Run this money marathon til my soles hurt
But no materials could measure what my soul's worth
I wanted everything, feel like I had no choice
Young niggas wishing on a star like Rose Royce
Being honest, killing mamas when we sold work
I made a promise, give me options and I cold-turkey
Sick of sitting on the side while it's game point
Recurring dream, tryna scream but ain't had no voice
Crazy lady speaking tongues said it's gon' work
Never vocalize my visions, actions was my spokesperson
Study rich niggas' moves like my homework
Sacrilegious; however, streets was my own church

Stained glass window in the Benzo
Lost in the instrumental
Keys got me sentimental