Songtexte: The Union. Roll Wit Us.

:
(feat. Munnie & Misfit)

[Chorus x2: The Union]

How many niggaz wanna rock wit us, drop wit us
Make it hot wit us, you can shop wit us
Plot wit us, cop a droptop wit us
And if you ain't ready to roll, you not wit us

[Verse One: Misfit]

I'm livin my life, spinnin in dice, women and ice
You're pretendin you're nice, ready wrote raps, men into mice
with a casual switch, heart of a lion, tongue of a snitch
Son of a bitch is the gold-plated, gun of the rich
Welcome to the world I'm runnin the shit, me and the beat click
like the gun and the clip, rhymes in the head like one at the tip
Shootin off at the mouth, y'all ain't got no wins
And I ain't new to this nigga, me and the mic is old friends
Up in the gold Benz with gold rims a blunt and the flyest bitches
while you decide if it's a front, or a sign of riches
I'm hoppin out, iced up, in designer stitches of course
and you still wonder what it cost
We floss, me and Munnie B, sippin Sunny D
Dirty hearts and bad company, you don't wanna see me angry
Boy my click on, shit y'all wish on
Expedition, we glist-en, keep the list-en
Keep the piss on, diamonds, on my wrist long
Y'all just full of smoke like Christion
If the shit's on, then it's on
Me Misfit, Henny sip
Could harm, any click, could charm, any bitch
Don't ask, can he rip, y'all suck, too many dicks
I be, with plnety players, learned, from many pimps
Y'all money came and it went, mines is still here
the dimes is still here, the rhymes is still here
the crimes is still here
Somethin you feel here, everything is real here
Nothing fictitious, regardless of the bad luck y'all wish us
Your click lust for life, what we touch in a week
Up in the club, touchin the freaks
The dancefloor, leads to the sheets
And all beef, will eventually, lead to the heat
I'm right across the water, knowin that the city don't sleep
But for the mill-ions, feel me y'all, comin in peace
Misfit, from out of the Big East

[Chorus]

[Verse Two: Munnie]

To me Munnie/money is never major
cause see I rock gators in many flavors
Players they hate us cause we big willies with navigators
Out to get the money pushin 320's, windows tinted
While my shit is legally represented, your shit is rented
Stackin my chips, mackin my bitch, got crack addicts waxin my whips
Full credits on clips, my chick stash between her hips
Flexin my Benjamins, eatin at Bennigan's
Me and my women friend, me and my Junior M.A.F.I.A. like Kim and them
Swimmin in women, laced wit nuttin but designer linen
Yes the finer women, if you rocked in em, I slide up in em
Went from rags to riches, baggin bitches, lyrically vicious
Your wish is just hopin maybe you can rock designer stitches
Enterprise thick, strictly wise guys runnin my shit
Gun in my clip, and if you talk slick, we runnin your shit
Really, I'm not a player I'm just crush a lot
with thugs that bust a lot
We like to make money and fuck a lot
Sex in a Expedition see that's tradition, my next edition
is sexin flexin my complex position, listen
I'm Gambino with Nino, and I'm runnin shit with the dog
I'm physically chubby and still got it locked like Boss Hog
No matter the cost, me and my Union niggaz we floss
And if your money couldn't stretch, get lost, or be tossed

[Chorus]