Se titula ‘Nobody’ el nuevo single de Rick Ross con French Montana y Diddy pero podemos decir que su carrera no está viviendo el mejor momento. Sus anteriores sencillos, “Devil is a Lie” con el amigo Jay Z y “War Ready” con el x rival Jeezy han pasado casi inobservados y no es una buena noticias, considerando que su nuevo disco, ‘Matermind’, llegará el 4 de marzo a las tiendas…
‘Nobody’ sale como una especie de nueva versión del casi profético ‘You’re Nobody (Till somebody kills you)’ de Biggie, siempre con la producción de Diddy (que firmó el original también).
Delicada la idea de recuperar un tema del famoso BIg, pero Rick Ross utiliza la base para hablar sobre las dificultades de la vida en las calles, haciendo una comparación con los soldados americanos que combaten en Afganistán.
Una canción personal, casi autobiográfica, donde hay espacio para palabras que invitan los jóvenes a no malgastar el tiempo y la vida (“La verdad no está en el dinero…”).
A continuación, la letra de ‘Nobody’:
You wanted to f*ckin’ walk around these roaches
These niggas is roaches
These niggas is mere motherf*ckin’ mortals
I’m tryna push you to supreme bein’
You don’t wanna motherf*ckin’
You don’t wanna embrace your destiny
You wanna get by
You don’t wanna go into the motherf*ckin’ dark
Where it’s lonely
You can’t handle the motherf*ckin’, the pain
Of the motherf*ckin’ not knowin’ when the shit is gonna stop
Mama’s tryna save me
But she don’t know I’m tryna save her
Man, them niggas tried to play me
Man, ’til I got this paper
You’re nobody ’til somebody kills you
“Blast for me” — the last words from my nigga
On the pavement, born killers, body shivers
Drug money, dollar figures
Hustlers moving out of rentals, art of war is mental
Having sushi down in Nobu
Strapped like an Afghan soldier, nowhere to go to
So it’s bang, no survivors
Only riders on my rider, murder rate rises
Stalkin’ niggas on their IG’s, never IB
Still solo, Under Armour still Polo
No wire, on fire
My desire for fine things made me a liar, a shooter
Gettin’ high feeling like it’s voodoo
Nine lives, SK with the cooler
Makaveli in the ‘Rari, still B-I double G, I, E
I pray you smoke with me
Go to bed with a kilo like Casino
Janet Reno, we all we got the creed to Nino
Pretty cars in the driveway
If you cut it then you sideways, double up, crime pays
You f*ckin’ wanna walk around with these niggas?
What the f*ck is their culture?
Where the f*ck is their souls at?
What defines you?
These niggas with these f*ckin’ silly looks on their faces
You wanna walk around with them or you wanna walk with God, nigga?
Make up your got damn mind
I’m from where the streets test you
Niggas mix business and pleasure where the cocaine measure
The narcotics is our product
The by-product, you walk up on me, I cock it
New Mercedes as it peels off
Nothing penetrates the steel doors, gang signs, see ‘em all
I said my prayer as I’m countin’ sheep
Never really athletic, but I play for keeps, do you feel me?
The mortician, the morgue fillin’ with more snitches
We kill ‘em and taking their bitches, R.I.P
Chinchillas on a winter night
Black bottles when I’m feelin’ like, you wanna know what winners like
And I’m never on that tour bus
Just a decoy for niggas, the PJ’s for two of us
Ciroc boys down to die for Diddy
My niggas ride for less, keep it real, homie, made me filthy
Touch mine until it’s even kill
Like I’m knowing every heathen will, closed the deal with Steven Hill
We Magic City of the networks
Cut a nigga cast off, how my nigga net works
F*ck you wanna talk about?
F*ckin’ jewelries and Bentley’s and Hublot’s
And f*ckin’ art that niggas ain’t got on their fuckin’ walls
And f*ckin’ mansions niggas ain’t got
Niggas can’t even pay the IRS, let alone their fuckin’ staff, nigga
You gotta tell the truth, man
The truth’ll set you free, son
The truth will set you free
