Rev those engines and light those Backwoods, folks, because Nipsey Hussle's track is a high-speed ride through ambition, hustle, and flashes of the good life. Hustling his way to the top with bulletproof determination, Nipsey paints a vivid picture of a risky tightrope walk where the prize is stacks of cash and luxurious living. Yet, it's not all glitz and glam—he doesn't shy away from the reality of the streets and the sacrifices along the way. With his AC blowing cold and money on his mind, he’s feeling untouchable, despite the constant balance between aspirations and pitfalls. Plotting his flight from struggle to success, Nipsey’s saga reminds us: life’s a game of survival and swag, where only the relentless triumph.
Killa
Lyrics
My AC on, my ceiling cracked, smoking killa
Light my Backwood, count 100 racks, smoking killa
I pull up in that black on black, smoking killa
My AC on, my ceiling cracked, smoking killa
I wake up in this state of mind, like sky's the limit
My niggas said you crossed the line, well I'm gon' kill you
I'm focused on a million cash, that's the vision
Speeding and I'm finna crash, that's the feeling
Until my tires burn, though, and my wheels give out
These Backwoods burn slow, like my bills dish out
When them people come for you, they gone steal yo house
Put yo name on them papers, they gon' fill you out
Couple moves from yo quota, come fuck up yo count
Have you thinking bounce back when you out
Look, I'm tip-toeing over traps
Tight-roping at a height, you fall you knowing it's a wrap
But I'm gon' keep this balance, 'cause it ain't no turning back
Ain't no looking down, my niggas ain't concerned with that
They more concerned with cash
More concerned with running laps, running rap
Getting rich, then run it back
My AC on, my ceiling cracked, smoking killa
Light my Backwood, count 100 racks, smoking killa
I pull up in that black on black, smoking killa
My AC on, my ceiling cracked, smoking killa
Yeah, look
What's the deal, nigga? What's the deal, nigga?
How you feel? Now you know this shit is real, nigga
Once upon a time was in the field, nigga
War time, really kill or kill, nigga
Gunfire, shooting out Seville's, nigga
Young, wild, police gon' deal with you
Not too many still living
So I gotta paint it real vivid
I'm surprised that I'm here, nigga
Know I'm blind to my fears, nigga
I shine like De Beers, nigga
And fly like a Lear, nigga
Climb like the stairs, nigga
Spend time out in Paris, nigga
Come from where the grannies gotta bury niggas
And money make these hoes wanna marry niggas
My AC on, my ceiling cracked, smoking killa
Light my Backwood, count 100 racks, smoking killa
I pull up in that black on black, smoking killa
My AC on, my ceiling cracked, smoking killa
I think about them late nights
Drive to Vegas cross the state lines
Finally did it, it just take time
Since I was ye' high, my only goal was get this cake right
And what they say, right
You on your own, it's what you make life
You was out there everyday, right?
Tryna push foreign, tryna eat steak, right?
Put some hunnids in yo safe, right?
Hang some flat screens in yo place, right?
Life is short, just in case, right?
Gave something to the lawyer, just in case, right?
Sitting solo, first class, on a straight flight
I remember waiting on my day like
Everyday I'm on this paper chase, like
Stand between these buildings 'til the daylight
Wiggle through the prisons and the grave sites
Then you finally get it, and you take flight
My AC on, my ceiling cracked, smoking killa
Light my Backwood, count 100 racks, smoking killa
I pull up in that black on black, smoking killa
My AC on, my ceiling cracked, smoking killa
Writer(s): Ermias Asghedom
Copyright(s): Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, The Administration MP, Inc., Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
What is the Meaning of Killa
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