Dave East - Russia Lyrics

Holiday Season

I talk to God like I'm 'bout to die (die)
I think of Malik and I start to cry (leak)
They paid no attention, was walking by (walking)
Outside looking for smokers to start they high
It was 7 am in my auntie building
My man just got low, he a wanted killer (wanted)
You won't put in no work but you want a million? (huh?)
Disrespect on the dirt, now we on a mission (ridin')
I got no pics on Kairi
New Glock 9 on my hip, you get clipped if you reachin' (boom)
Make the bartender send you a shot or some bleach
We gon' make you go viral, you cry like Tyrese
You say my name on a single, my niggas gon' lean you, we'll be at your album release (facts)
Jay might pick me up, we just got him a Jeep
Dre Mac called me my phone, said he got him some freaks
If I ain't in Dolce Gabanna, they bite like piranhas, I probably Versace my teeth
Send threats on the net but be hiding from me
I play Soho that's why this designer on me
Middle of the projects momma dying on me
You want dust, I can pull up with gallons on me (lean)
This ain't Smack DVD, ain't no battling me
'Lik and Mugga forever, they tatted on me

I got a bitch, came from Russia
Don't understand her when I f*ck her, gon' spend all the money (ballin', ballin')
I rush every hour, Chris Tucker
I'm balling on 'em like the Rucker, we laughing it's funny (ballin' ballin')
I beat it like I'm DJ Mustard
I got your bitch all through the gutter, I just told her bust it
We got them sticks on us in public
I cannot kick it for nothing, might f*ck up your budget
I got a bitch you can't touch
Can't understand her when I f*ck her, gon' spend all the money (ballin', ballin')
I rush every hour, Chris Tucker
I'm balling on 'em like the Rucker, we laughing it's funny (ballin' ballin')
I beat it like I'm DJ Mustard
I got your bitch all through the gutter, I just told her bust it
We got them sticks on us in public
I cannot kick it for nothing, might f*ck up your budget

Drum on me, don't play percussion
F*ck her so good, she be cussing
You got low with a onion (ay)
I got this shit out the dungeon
I don't owe nobody nothing
This pistol is Russian
Matter of fact, this bitch is German
Couldn't get nothin' from niggas, shit, I had to earn it
I got some Gelato, let's burn it
Gun on me with no license, I don't got no permit
Money, got it straight, it look like I permed it
F*ck a DA, I don't care about the verdict (f*ck)
Nigga violate, most likely got murdered (murdered)
She ain't tryna f*ck, most likely I curved it (curve)
She let me hit it, couldn't understand her
She ain't wanna job, she just wanna scam
I'm really from the trenches working on my manners
Versace pajamas, I just bought some hammers
Wanted to keep taking pictures, so we caught his camera
Getting shot, pray to God I try to call your grandma
Afterparty at the crib, left with all the dancers
Poise spread, gotta get rid of all the cancer
Never thought about a sale, taking all of them chances
Now, the label want a tape, I get all of them advances
Shoot at them red bottoms, I got all of them dancing
Money make me look good, now they calling me handsome

I got a bitch, came from Russia
Don't understand her when I f*ck her, gon' spend all the money (ballin', ballin')
I rush every hour, Chris Tucker
I'm balling on 'em like the Rucker, we laughing it's funny (ballin' ballin')
I beat it like I'm DJ Mustard
I got your bitch all through the gutter, I just told her bust it
We got them sticks on us in public
I cannot kick it for nothing, might f*ck up your budget