Keys Open Doors (Live at NPR’s Tiny Desk)

Lyrics

[Chorus: Pusha T, Yoo Q!, Both] Keys open doors (Come on) Keys open doors (Come on) Keys open doors (Bounce) Keys- (Bounce, uh) Keys open doors (Uh, bounce) Come on, let's go [Verse 1: Pusha T, Clipse, Malice, Yoo Q!] 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 Seein' my life through the windshields of choppers I ain't spent one rap dollar in three years, holla Money's the leash, drag the bitch by a dog collar Now, ho, follow This is my ghetto story like Cham, Ice-P is the Don Dada Open the Frigidairе, twenty-five to life in hеre 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 ho with your child At you make-believe rappers, I smile, ha Canal Streeting my style Like you internet sharin' my files, you MySpace niggas So kill the comparison (Uh) I'm South Beach sippin' on Sarafin Royalty check, nigga, I never been Coke money clean through Merrill Lynch Accountant just gasp at the smell of it, ah Meet the dealer, ain't a bitch realer So you ain't gotta question why Pusha don't feel you (Come on, y'all, yo) [Chorus: Pusha T & Yoo Q!, Malice, Clipse & Yoo Q!, Yoo Q!] Keys open doors (What), keys open doors (What) Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors (Come on) Keys open doors (What), keys open doors (What) Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Keys open doors (What), keys open doors (What) Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors (Keep it goin', keep it goin') (Come on, let's go, let's go) Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors [Verse 2: Malice, Clipse, Pusha T, Pusha T & Yoo Q!] Throw it on the scale, feed your goddamn self Get it how you live, we don't ask for help, no Word on the street is you gon' 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 Livin' 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 should 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 We get fed grapes, fuck hoes in plurals (Uh) 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-in' in Miami, I'm a socialite, nigga The cars are big, the cribs are bigger (What else?) The kids are happy, the perfect picture Gemstar razor (Uh), the fruit of my labor (Uh) 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 spendin', all it is is paper, yes [Chorus: Pusha T & Yoo Q!, Malice, Clipse & Yoo Q!, Yoo Q!] (One more time, go) Keys open doors (What), keys open doors (What) Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Keys open doors (What), keys open doors (What) Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Keys open doors (What), keys open doors (What) Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors [Outro: Yoo Q!, NPR Music Team] Tiny Desk, how we feelin' out there, man? Woo, yeah Okay, y'all ready to rock with the Clipse tonight? Y'all ready to get to it today? (Yep) A'ight, cool