Keys Open Doors Songtext
von Clipse

Keys open doors
Keys open doors
Keys open doors
Keys, keys open doors

(Yough!) Make your skin crawl
Press one button, let the wind fall
Who gonna stop us? Fuck the coppers!
The mind of a kilo shopper
Seeing my life through the wind shields 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 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 ho 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 Sara fin
Royalty check, nigga, I never been
Cook money clean through Merrill Lynch
Accountant just gasp at the smell of it!

Meet the dealer, ain't a bitch realer
So you ain′t gotta question why Pusha don′t feel ya!
(Keys open doors) knock it the fuck off!

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 the state with the grace of Maria
Keep on toys, you goin′ 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, its 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 Shapiro′s

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
Gem star razor, the fruit of my labour
And I walk with a glow, it's like the Lord′s shown favour

These bitches fake like the hoes on Flavour
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