Jim Jones - American Gangster lyrics

All of a sudden
Niggas infatuated with Harlem
First they wanna be the twin
Brother of Rich Porter
Now they American gangsters
But real niggas do real things, don't they?
And gangstas still move in silence
Don't they? These niggas fakin'
I don't believe 'em

Your favorite rap artist is American wangsta
(Oldhead) went around the country
With American gangsters (Birdgang)
We gettin' money like Merrill Lynch bankers
(Money) you old fuckers
We new money and the hoes love us
(You heard me)
You lookin' at the show shutter (Yup)
About to blow, nukka (Yup)
My son say, "Daddy's car come with no cover"
Because my love is so soft (Ow)


My bread's so long (Oh)
They on our paper trail
I think the feds comin' on
And if they make it rain
Be prepared for the storm (Calima)
Know you're sustained, you won't be here
Not for long
Got ya switchin' gears in the foreign
Champagne cheers to the morning
We the mob, they on 'em (Yup)
Look to the sky, toss the ice
Light up the strip with the Porsche lights
(Ow)
Heat it up with the fog lights (Won't see it)
Engine in the truck with the four pipes
I'm alright (Uh)

I'm alright, nigga
Y'all ain't got to worry about me
You know I'm on my grind
Just did a new venture with Sony
It's like holy matrimony
They married to the mob now, huh
Now we get to just, uh
Rinse that money up properly
You know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
I don't think you know nothin' 'bout that
(What you know about that?)
Shit, it ain't shit you could tell me
(Nothin')

Now we take trips across the world
Keep bitches in the telly (Yup)
Flauntin' new whips on Pirellis
(Ow) , well, these
Niggas gettin' jelly like Smucker's, fuck 'em
We 'bout to make Rich Porter proud (Porter)
Two nights, spent forty thou'
Took the flip with the pineapple (Got it)
Move bricks through the rotten apple
(New York)
Do this shit until the cops catch you (Damn)
Move low, keep a goon close, say a prayer
Do a toast (As-salam)
God bless us on this lane until the show (Oh)
Audemars timepieces (Blingin')
Big body dime pieces (Ow)
ATL body bitches (Hey, baby)
Fuck niggas over paper, we'll body bitches
(You hear that?)
You fuck niggas don't play me, lil' bugsy boy
(Don't play with me, nigga)
I got my bucks up
I'm hoppin' out the hottest toys

You hear me?
Yeah, I'm playin' with this new money
This summer, I'm, I'm rampin' like
Five big boy toys, nigga
You understand me?
Right now I'm sittin' low in, uh
In that four door Flying Spur
Still ride those through the hood
Roll dice on side the curb
I said gangsters do what gangsters do
Don't they? I'm an American gangster, bitch