Hold On

[Verse 1: Pusha T]
I sold more dope than I sold records,
You niggas, sold records, never sold dope,
So I ain't hearin' none of that street shit
‘Cause in my mind, you mothafuckas, sold soap.
Got rich sellin' hope to the hopeless,
But I'm a thinker, methodic in my motives,
I motivate to put my niggas into motors,
No woman, no child, no witness, no Jehovahs.
Like Scarface but it's God's face in that mirror,
We was made in his image, dialin' and it's much clearer.
Scorin' from the heights but I wanted mine purer,
Aryan, blonde hair, blue-eyed like the Führer.
The judge and the jury, the jewellery mad froze,
Water colors on my neck, fuck rhymin' when you blindin' niggas,
We ain't the same color clarity of diamond, nigga,
Nah, I ain't got nothing in common witchyas.
Pain in my heart, it's as black as my skin,
They tippin' the scale for these crackers to win,
No readin', no writin' made us savage of men,
They prayin' for jail, but I mastered the pen.
Descendant from kings, we at it again,
Just hand me the crown, I'm active again,
Everything that it seems, hear my passion again,
Was never my dream, the immaculate win.

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
I was pissin' my shorts, havin' rich nigga thoughts,
Wish I had a pistol before all the friends, I done fought.
Over night I seen a nigga go get a Carrera,
Two weeks later I had to be that boy pallbearer.
Young king, bury me inside a glass casket,
Windex, wipe me down for the life after.
Crack dealer livin' like a hoop star,
Black marble, white walls in my new spot.
Four chains, big studs, a nigga too fly,
Top down, tank top, I think I'm Tupac,
So I'm labeled the rebel, nigga, get on my level,
We were born to be kings, only major league teams.
Chasin' my paper, couldn't fathom my wealth,
Built a school in Ethiopia, should enroll in myself.
God body and mind, food for the soul,
When you feedin' on hate, you empty, my nigga, it shows.
Follow the codes, ain't no love for these hoes,
If you slip and you fall, I got you my, nigga, hold on.
If you right or you wrong, if you ridin' come on!
By the end of this song, can't be hidin' for long.
I seen children get slaughtered, niggas' grandmothers assaulted,
Throw a gang sign, dare you do something about it.
Fuck coppin' them foams, when you coppin' the home,
Cop a kilo and have them people on top of your home.

[Outro]
[Rick Ross:]
Follow the codes, ain't no love for these hoes,
If you slippin', you fall, I got you, my nigga, hold on.
If you right or you wrong, if you ridin', come on!
By the end of this song, I got you, my nigga, hold on.
[Pusha T:]
I got you, my nigga, hold on.
[Rick Ross:]
I got you, my nigga, hold on.
[Pusha T:]
If you right or you wrong, if you ridin', come on!
By the end of this song, I got you, my nigga, hold on.
[Rick Ross:]
I got you, my nigga, hold on. [x4]