toast to the gods
I daydream pretty women out in Beijing
Paris Celine hop up in that Saline
I chase dreams, white man but the face green
Same thing err' day, err' thing gleam
Fuck my reply, the bank do the statements
Had me with my savings, I was saving in my savings
Two or three bedroom shack I was raised in
The condos out in Jersey full of Jay West paintings
Talk to the boy how you talk to the Lord
Talk to these broads how I talk to my dog
Marc Jacob plates, Margiela rugs
My boys make smores out you marshmallow thugs
Hop up out the first class, hop into that E-class
Cut raw, cut school, I ain't ever see class
If so, I was cutting in my nigga Steve's class
School of hard knocks, graduated with a G pass
G-Code, street code, fake niggas; cheat code
Niggas trying to turn fake shit: green, cheap gold
I don't know how they do it for the freak show
But I ain't even go beast mode
So we toast
Fuck the pearly gates, I'm hanging by the steps
'Cause my target is my goal and I'm aiming for the best
I'm good at what I do, but I'm coming for the best spot
On the road to greatness, success is the next stop
I don't even rest, (Nah) even at a rest stop
I toast with the Gods, tell these haters take they best shot
I'ma be that motherfucker 'til my breath stop
I guess for now call me step pop
We toast for the night and drink for the day
The God shed a tear providing us rain
What a shame from the pain 'cause we used to being slaves
Made a change from the whips, shackles and the chains
But nowadays man seem a little strange
Trade his soul for the whips and the chains, what a change!
No, I couldn't tell you what the difference is
But I could tell you what the business is
I was getting dividends, probably spending Benjamins
Both kind of synonyms, in the same sentences
Tell me what a good Christian is
Better yet; when Christmas is
Waiting on my presence, I must be a gift from heaven
'Cause I'm toasting with the Lord, somebody let the bitches in