Clipse - Roll With Da Winners

Roll with the winners, the soul of the sinners Which ring, which chain; the most our dilemmas My uncles before me mixed the diesel and the blenders Then crack came, I seen the coldest of winters Mountains of snow -- made fiends tremor Mink to the floor, we use the crème de la crèmes Such a need to shimmer, the Benz got the slippers Club owners love us call us yellow bottle grippers Flipper? No. Whale scale tipper I'm from a line of ex-kingpins that's turned sniffers Pray the Lord forgive us while the maricons fill us Up to the brim, call them the coffee bean spillers Blasphemous, he calls kis God's pillows Ivory white, bury me in my chinchilla Ain't none iller, no! Ain't none realer It's Pusha, just ya neighborhood dope dealer You gotta love the gall on 'im Twenty on the arm on 'im Twenty-four inch blades, see the frame fall on 'em Drugs czar, retired, like I was Shawn on 'em Came back to star -- Jordan as he falls Released to score raw on 'em, 2.2 pounds exactly Tape criss-crossed like a bra on 'em But the streets I was marred, I was scarred on And ride around microphone fiend with the R on 'em I'm Bad, James Todd On the white part of the water, my third got scalds On the right side of my palm where the soft got hard On the right price, give me the light, I Sean Paul on 'em Run the city, Sean John on 'em New Marvin, screaming "What's Going On," I'm trouble man, I rubberband man, push hard on them Same block where I crawled on 'em, I'mma fall on 'em I couldn't dare do the arm, and not the neck with it; Jesus on the charm, show some respect with it Don't be alarmed, if y'all don't connect with it Something like the Arnage, if you select with it To most a mirage, but even when I'm pinched The boy far from dreaming, the Porsche with the vents Tucked in the trunk let the dogs track the scent "And I don't give a fuck," about our best defense Catch me if you can I am ginger bread And the mink interior is crimson red; Y'all talk before they even mention Feds Of how I got the block like the Dawn of the Dead Seems amongst thieves that honor is dead Bucking the court 'till Your Honor is dead Y'all take heed to what is fall upon ya You are in the presence, Re-Up, the ensemble You got no choice but notice me, everything I drop hard Challenge is wiling out on opium playing dodgeball With some bullets busting out the narrow barrel Hitting you hard, your fate don't need no tarot -- Cards to be read, I reads about niggas like you daily, obituary; Dead weight, my head straight, my bitch is very Steadfast, that wet ass, ki daddy marry Float through your city like I'm in a ferry; took the 7-60 off it Put 8 o'clock on it, Eight-Double Dot-Double Zero Add four more, you know the time with my earlobes Niggas is mad, niggas is last, niggas is fake, niggas is late Niggas need to be in the lake -- the bottom of it Fuck you buck in new brick boots With a burgundy wet suit for thinking you death proof, pussy