Keys Open Doors - Clipse

Keys open doors, keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys-keys open doors

Yuugh!

Make your skin crawl

Press one button, let the wind fall

Who gon' stop us?

Fuck the coppers, the mind of a kilo shopper

Seeing my life through the windshields of choppers

I ain’t spend one rap dollar in three years, holla!

Money’s the leash, drag a bitch by her dog collar

Now ho follow

This is my ghetto story like Cham, Ice-P is the Don Dada

Open the Frigidaire, 25 to life in here

So much white you might think your holy Christ is near

Throw on your Louis V millionaires to kill the glare

Ice trays?

Nada!

All you’ll see is pigeons paired

The realest shit I ever wrote

Not Pac inspired, it’s crack pot inspired, my real niggas quote

Bitch never cook my coke, why?

Never trust a whore with your child

At you make believe rappers, I smile, ha!

Canal Streeting my style

Like you internet sharing my files, you MySpace niggas

So kill the comparison, I’m South Beach sipping on Sarafin

Royalty check nigga, I never been

Coke money clean through Merrill Lynch

Accountant just gasp at the smell of it!

(gasp)

Meet the dealer, ain’t a bitch realer

So you ain’t gotta question why Pusha don’t feel ya

Knock it the fuck off

Keys open doors, keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys-keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys-keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys-keys open doors

(Yeah, check it)

Keys open doors, keys-keys open doors

Throw it on the scale, feed your god damn self

Get it how you live, we don’t ask for help (No)

Word on the street is you gonna love how it melt

And I don’t come with a pitch neither, the shit sell itself

I yell «Re-Up» 'til I’m locked like Mumia

And get it 'cross-state with the grace of Maria

Keep on toys, you gon' know us when you see us

Living street tales worthy of Don Divas

Keys in the floor, mistress in Dior

Bitch tell me she love me but I know she’s a whore

Shit could get ugly, shit, she talk to the law

And that’s just what I get, it’s the Roses of War

Fuck the Bureau, rather be spending Euros

And get fed grapes, fuck hoes in plurals

Just like heaven as I gaze at the mural

What a peace of mind when you cop you some Shapiros

Cheers to the future as we toast to life

I’m Prive-ing in Miami, I’m a socialite, nigga

The cars are big, the cribs are bigger

The kids are happy, the perfect picture

Gemstar razor, the fruit of my labor

And I walk with a glow, it’s like the Lord’s shown favor

These bitches fake like the hoes on «Flavor»

But I don’t mind spending, all it is is paper, yes!

Keys open doors, keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys-keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys-keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys-keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys-keys open doors