Westbay - High End [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Verse 1: Westbay
Ain't nobody wanna earn their stripes
They just wanna act hard, talk tough but they never wanna fight
Drive a hundred thousand dollar car, never wanna grind all night
Time to pull your card, time to see whose really about that life, for too long yo I've been too nice
Ok now stand back
Everybody give me room, don't be stepping on my air max
Let me do what I do, spit truth on these damn tracks
So high in the booth, why you think they call me ClimaX?
I'll turn your city into Iraq, Everybody now
Rock with me as I switch the flow, money on the table, I get the dough
Yea your boy bad, I'm with Troy Ave, about five hoes and brick of blow (like yeah, wooh)
Oh thats your girl? Ya'll two be a pair?
I fucked her last year (Uh), one more time
And this fake shit, it need to stop, I seen this mother fucker at the pizza shop
He had a 5 dollar bill and some crumpled up ones, and on Instagram he's holding up a knot, I'm like please (wooh)
Got a car and a bank account thats on E, so why ya girl chose me

Chorus
Cause you don't do it like this (up and down)
Drop top in the whip, you don't do it like this (up and down)
Every night another bitch, you don't do it like this (up and down)
Might do alotta that, you don't do alotta this
That boy he wish, that he could do it like this (up and down)
Drop top in the whip, you don't do it like this (up and down)
Every night another bitch, you don't do it like this (up and down)
Might do alotta that, you don't do alota this
Get money get rich, cause you don't do it like this

Verse 2: Troy Ave
Two Glock nines automatic stash it pull it out then tote
Two hundred K for the yay I pay, and get it by the boat
Dope dealing, 4 wheeling profit off high hopes
Ski man, turned he-man, life is one big slope
Up and down like prayers from the pope
Play both sides prepare to be smoked
People gonna beg you, people gonna stress you
Shit my favorite word is nope
Self made, got loyalty to who get me paid
Royalty is what we obtain, through the smarts muscle and blood stains
It's a art to hustle no front page, I'm flamboyant but low key
I want money, not no trophy, got enough gold in my roley
I came up gritty, got my name up you sh*tty
Now Troy Ave that n*gga, outta New York City (powder)

Chorus 2x