[Chorus: Pusha T]

Keys open doors, keys open doors

Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors

[Verse 1: Pusha T]

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 Frigidaire, twenty-five 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'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, hah

Canal Streeting my style

Like you internet sharin' my files, you MySpace niggas

So kill the comparison

I'm South Beach sipping on Sarafin

Royalty check, nigga, I never been

Coke 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 you

Knock it the fuck off

[Chorus: Pusha T & Malice]

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

(Yeah, check it)

Keys open doors, keys, keys open doors

[Verse 2: Malice]

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

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-ing in Miami, I'm a socialite, nigga

The cars are big, the cribs are bigger

The kids are happy, the perfect picture

Gemstar razor, the fruit of my labor

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 spending, all it is is paper, yes

[Chorus: Pusha T]

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