Escucha música Hard Piano Original de Kanye West 2025 en línea | Musica Rap

Kanye West - Hard Piano Original Lyrics

[Verse 1: Pusha T]
Never trust a bitch who finds love in a camera
She will fuck you, then turn around and fuck a janitor
Set the parameters
You either with the pro ballers or the amateurs
I won't let you ruin my dreams or Harvey Weinstein the kid
Good mornin', Matt Lauer—can I live?
Look at my new digs
The rooftop can host a paint-and-sip for, like, forty
The Warhols on my wall paint a war story
Had to find other ways to invest
'Cause you rappers found every way to ruin Pateks
Fuck you niggas foolin'?
Your past do-deals is the talk of the jewelers
I'ma start investigating Mullers
It's way too many Slick Rick Da Rulas
It's like they cheapening the price of gold
You motherfuckers strip away the soul
A nigga don't even want a Rolls
Yeah, I just proposed
The rock came from Belgium
All she gotta do is keep her nails done
The well never runs dry
The money's in a desert
Next to Jimmy Hoffa
Past in the present
Future's in my driveway
I call it the reverend
White with no top on it
Stairway to Heaven, yeah
It's a message and a blessing
The kilos came, we measure it then we strech it
Yan just counted five-hundred in my kitchen
Set before the niches 'cause the forty-eight was missing
Ain't no losses in my collection plate
We turn millions out of a section-eight
Balenciaga flannel like I'm rolling candle
See these Cartiers, you're meant to make your soul repanel
Art Basel-in' the bezel
Your bustdown is bust-down and don't match the metal
Lower level's where you settle at
I'm the pot callin' the kettle black
Where there's no brake pedals at
Between God and where the Devil's at
Had to double-dutch and double back
Then hopscotch through where the trouble's at
Exactly what the game's been missin'
This fire burns hot as Hell's Kitchen
Push!
[Chorus: Kanye West & Rick Ross]
That wasn't me though! That wasn't me though!
That wasn't me though! That wasn't me though!
That wasn't me though! I come from [?]!
This for the sneaker hoarders and coke snorters
I come from [?]! I come from [?]!
From Honda Accords to Grammy awards, yo
Y'all rep for [?]! I come from [?]!

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
I can blow a million dollars into dust
Lord knows how many bottles I've done bust
Still runnin' through the models like I'm Puff (M-M-M—)
Confront my problems like I'm Ralo in the bluff
Pusha know these politics is paradox
Chillin' in a condo full of ready-rock
My homie amputated but gon' stand for somethin'
I'm dyin' to find a way to get a Grammy from it (Maybach Music)
Watchin' my success, for some, is bittersweet
Always keep the sharpshooters' triggers tweaked
Diamonds drippin' on me via Tiffany's
All these K-9 units still sniffin' me
Ignorance versus the innocence
It's not the temperature for you in Timberlands
I keep the coldest flows on the hot seat (M-M-M—)
And you can spot my hoes by their car keys
Another episode full of atrocities
It's double-M, baby, money monopolies (Maybach Music)
You scared to see my face in a fancy place
So why debate my case vs. a Nancy Grace?
It's flesh and blood 'til I'm fresh as fuck
Still hands-on, sucker, press your luck (M-M—)
Your money gone every other month
My money long, so the treasure's tucked
[Chorus: Kanye West]
That wasn't me though! That wasn't me though!
That wasn't me though! That wasn't me though!
That wasn't me though! I come from [?]!
I come from [?]! I come from [?]!
Y'all rep for [?]! I come from [?]!