Suicide

[Intro: Pharrell Williams]
Yeah
I just ordered one, my nigga
Yeah

[Verse 1: Pusha T]
I'm still a snow-mover, blow harder than tuba
Designated shooters, turn weed to woolers
Condo in Atlanta, money counters like the NASDAQ
In that glass back, the motor is the asscrack
I'm still feeding divas like I feed the meter
Holy father to 'em—I ain't talking Jesus, neither
Balance on the scale—I ain't a Libra, either
I'm just a name and a number with the means to reach you
Grim Reaper, him cheaper, hemp chiefer
His army: MCM on gym sneakers
You knowin' that hymn better, he been preaching
You motherfuckers is bloodsuckers—you been leeching
Been Baller, been Jacob, been dealer
Been realer; pound sign, been triller
All killer, no filler—been iller
Fraud niggas, you Zoolander: Ben Stiller

[Chorus: Pusha T]
When it comes to shooters, my niggas is trained to go
And they gettin' practice on bitches who breakin' codes
Thirty-five hundred, just point and give 'em a name
They back-flippin' niggas—that go for rappers the same
You don't know me, nigga—fuck out my way

[Verse 2: Pusha T]
Big difference between a renter and a homeowner
Hip Hop Weekly cover and a Rolling Stoner
Lufthansa: I heist, nigga, or that bitch Winona
Stop comparing me to rappers 'cause they in their moment
Might have crossed the name brand every blue
But these brand names to a brand owner isn't new
Don't make us equal 'cause we shared a bitch or two
She ain't the angel that you think—she reincarnated, too
I build mine off fed time and dope lines
You caught steam off headlines and co-signs
Young niggas cliquing up with my rivals
Like the Bible don't burn, like these bullets don't spiral
Like I can't see the scenes that you mirror in your idol
But a pawn’s only purpose is completely suicidal
Ooh, suicide, it's a suicide
I'm just talkin' to the world like it's you and I

[Chorus: Pusha T]
When it comes to shooters, my niggas is trained to go
And they gettin' practice on bitches who breakin' codes
Thirty-five hundred, just point and give 'em a name
They back-flippin' niggas—that go for rappers the same
You don't know me, nigga—fuck out my way

[Verse 3: Ab-Liva]
Nothing but cash here; this sweater's a cashmere
The roof is a translucent—it's nothin' but glass there
The car is a concept—what's next is my last year
My future is bright-hot; you never can last here
I'm top five—listen, who hot in the past year?
Five heartbeats, and I'm feelin' like Flash here
'Cause what I captured is the beast unleashed in the pasture
Story of the sheep and the wolves I unmaster
Fifty in the liquor, unwrapped 'em
Unpacked; powder rise and it falls, like Sebastian—
Telfair; tailor-made suits, handcrafted
Over Bottega Veneta, high-tops unfastened
S550 drop-top is unimaginable
To my hand drop, and then, he unattached it
Practice it, nigga, brick, break down, breakdance
Crab-walk, backspin, tanner than my Black skin

[Chorus: Pusha T]
When it comes to shooters, my niggas is trained to go
And they gettin' practice on bitches who breakin' codes
Thirty-five hundred, just point and give 'em a name
They back-flippin' niggas—that go for rappers the same
You don't know me, nigga—fuck out my way