Hard Piano (Original)

[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 stretch 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 a solar panel

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 [?]!