Artist: Pusha T f/ Ab-Liva, Rick Ross Album: Fear of God Mixtape Song: I Still Wanna Typed by: newos_crib_is@hotmail.com [Pusha T] It's like an itch you can't you scratch It's like a bitch you can't shake I still wanna Sleeping with the finest, the thread count is bindless Security blanket of cocaine, I am Linus In this climate, I'm Kareem Burke tied in The Roc silent partner, I ain't throwing up the diamond Throwing on the shearling, collars up, bottles up Sparkles to the table, got 'em feeling like he's Merlin Whirlwind, powder makes your world spin Learn from OGs, Alfa Romeos and Sterlings Updated that, upgraded that Suffocation blue and the inside's potato sack Yeah, talk money? Shit I'm made of that Cocaine parties like the seventies, I cater that You know what fame is? Sitting with the woman of your dreams and forgetting what her name is You know what pain is? Flushing two bricks and tryna have a nigga try to strain it out the drainage [Chorus: Pusha T] See my face on the news and it ain't Tivo I still wanna sell kilos It's like I'm throwing rocks at the pen, begging for the RICO I still wanna sell kilos Searching for the fishscale like I'm tryna Find Nemo I still wanna sell kilos That's what happens when you Michael and they try to treat you like Tito I still wanna sell kilos [Rick Ross] Grew up watching momma car repo'ed A little nigga staring through the peephole, huh How you think I felt knowing daddy wasn't there? Recycling cans cause nobody ever cared Get it how you live, always echoed in the streets When we talking business, talking on the phone cease Feds listening to conversations through my OnStar Piecing puzzles together, solving homicides of I's Dice game chatter, better bring your stash out, huh Red velour, I'm in the white glasshouse Half a ticket bitches, quick to drop it on the scale City of dope where real niggas sell yayo Every day a nigga dies and we can't ask why Show 'em all love, the bitches fucked on the side Tony Montana, tailor-made suits in the church Rolls Royce Corniche, trunk full of work, huh [Chorus] [Ab-Liva] Testarossa, top models, G4s Gucci pass the crease off, everything I climb in, I win Richard Mille Tourbillon, remarkable +timing+ Black label everything, logos in the lining Bell Biv DeVoe, push +poison+ like a Copperhead Powder falls, smoke clears through the walking dead The Rose bottles pour for the champions You'd think it was a Grammy win, celebration spills through the morning like an Ambien, bitches love my ambience Chain swinging, ticker taping like it's Mardi Gras Thousand niggas deep, never needed bodyguards Thousand ki's that I'm about to do Pilates on Where the kings crowned like the grill a Maserati's on Candy-coated parked, doors ajar, on a stripper Blew a fuse and a caught a body on, cocaine storaging Liva living dreams, y'all DeLorean is pouring in [Chorus]