SongtexteSweet Dreams


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Letzte Aktualisierung am: 25. Juli 2017
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Uhh, what, what, uhh. Street dreams are made of these

Niggaz push Beemers and 300 E's A drug dealer's destiny is reachin a key Everybody's lookin for somethin. Street dreams are made of these Shorties on they knees, for niggaz with big G's Who am I to disagree? Everybody's lookin for somethin. My man put me up for the share, one-fourth of a square Headed for Delaware, with one change of gear Nothin on my mind but the dime sack we blazed With the glaze in my eye, that we find when we crave Dollars and cents, a fugitive with two attempts Jakes had no trace of the face, now they drew a print Though I'm innocent, til proven guilty I'ma try to filthy, purchase a club and start up realty For real G, I'ma fullfill my dream If I conceal my scheme, then precisely I'll build my cream The first trip without the clique Sent the bitch with the quarter brick, this is it Fresh face, NY plates got a Crooked I for the Jakes I want it all, ArmorAll Benz and endless papes God sake, what nigga got to do to make a half million Without the FBI catchin feelings From fat cat to papi, niggaz see the cat Twenty-five to flat, push a thousand feet back Holdin gats wasn't making me fat, snitches on my back Livin with moms, gettin it on, flushin crack down the toilet Two sips from bein alcoholic Nine hundred ninety nine thou from bein rich but now I'm all for it My man saw it like Dionne Warwick A wiser team, for a wiser dream we could all score with The cartel Argentina coke with the nina Up in the hotel, smokin on sessamina Trina got the fishscale between her The way the bitch shook her ass yo the dogs never seen her She got me back livin sweeter, fresh Caesar Guess, David Robinson's, Walle' moccasins Bitches blow me while hoppin in the drop-top BM Word is bond son, I had that bitch down on my shit like this Growin up project-struck, lookin for luck dreamin Scopin the large niggaz beamin, check what I'm seein Cars, ghetto stars pushin ill Europeans G'n, heard about them old timers OD'n Young, early 80's, throwin rocks at the crazy lady Worshippin every word them rope rockin niggaz gave me The street raised me up, givin a fuck I thought Jordan's and a gold chain was livin it up I knew the dopes, the pushers, the addicts everybody Cut out of class, just to smoke blunts and drink naughty Ain't that funny? Gettin put on to crack money With all the gunplay, paintin the kettle black hungry A case of beers in the staircase I wasted years Some niggaz went for theirs, flippin coke as they career But I'm a rebel stressin, to pull out of the heat no doubt With Jeeps tinted out, spendin never holdin out

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