Lil Baby - My Turn Lyrics
Get Ugly
(ATL Jacob)
(ATL Jacob)
It can get ugly, huh
Would you leave or stay like you love me?
From the bottom, all I know is the struggle
Can't get no job, so all I know is the hustle
Yeah, bankroll gettin' bigger (bigger)
Empire gettin' built up
Givin' racks to the right nigga
I can get a pack overnight, ain't nothin' like you niggas
Sippin' syrup 'til my body numb, I ain't tryna catch no feelings
I ain't never bite no nigga
She give me brain now 'cause I'm famous
I got these chains on gettin' tangled
I'm in a big Benz, not a Wrangler
It's still a Jeep though, it ain't cheap, ho
I'm just happy they gon' free Rico
Dodgin' stank hoes and RICO
On the Sprinter van with them Dracos
Probably ridin' around with Starlito
I'ma buss it down with my lil' bros
Buy cars for all of my kinfolk
If the sack ever did get low
God knows it's gon' be a robbery
Why the f*ck everybody callin' me?
Everybody who left took a part of me
Excuse my drip, yeah, pardon me
Show me a list who hard as me (uh)
It can get ugly, huh
Would you leave or stay like you love me?
From the bottom, all I know is the struggle
Can't get no job, so all I know is the hustle
Right back after tour
Ain't got time for no attitude
Why I cannot lose?
Feel like I had to do it
I'm in my savage mode
Put a lil' back into it
Treat me with gratitude
I ain't no average dude
Need my rims offset like Cardi B
This might be my hardest beat
Put the blame on Pee, he started me
Got the game from Big, he guarded me
Coach threw me in, took me out the streets
Now I get racks to rap on beats
I still know plugs with packs for cheap
Killers owe favors, they'll whack for free
Never did fraud, got cash receipts
Lotta niggas get their swag from me
Don't tell nobody to buy bags from me
You were not in the street, you wouldn't last a week
My bitch so bad, I pass on freaks
I'm here 'cause my granny be prayin' for me
None of these niggas ain't playin' with me
Got hittas that'll sit in that can for me, yeah
It can get ugly, huh
Would you leave or stay like you love me?
From the bottom, all I know is the struggle
Can't get no job, so all I know is the hustle, yeah
Writer: Dominique Jones, Jacob Canady
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Heatin Up
(Cook that shit up, Quay)
4PF, look like we hit licks, how we sell bricks
We don't sell shit, we just make hits, yeah
Turn up
Keepin' my composure, never sober
Never chokin', always smokin' doja
F*ck 'em if they gettin' over
Got a Moncler coat because the kid the coldest
I ain't changed, I stayed the same, and maintained
It's safe to say the kid gettin' older
Forever gang, I'm never switchin' over
Made a lane and niggas can't get over
I can't match with rappers, they be bogus
Really get a pack and keep the over
Big dripper, stand up in the ocean
Everybody trappin', we get loads in
He ain't 4PF if he ain't got motion
Made a half a ticket off promotion
Shoutout Swishers Sweet, they keep me rollin'
But if we catch the opp, we gotta smoke 'em
Ridin' 'round with Dracs', like we OVO
I got some racks and I want some more
Still got them packs in the hood, call it give-and-go
Keep a nigga main bitch in a figure-four
Let me f*ck when I want, I just come and go
Man, these racks gettin' too big for these skinny clothes
I might put me an M in some big Girbaud
Let lil' bro hit the stick and start gettin' old
I spent five hundred racks on a Lambo'
And didn't even know how to make that motherf*cker go
On my birthday, I just wanna lift the door
Barely flex, but don't play with me, period
Shooters followin' behind in a Urus
In the Rolls truck, I feel like a tourist
I'm the one from the bottom, who sold all my partners them pounds
Used to drive in a Buick
Hot, hot, hot
I'm heatin' up
I f*ck with slimes and I'm gonna bust
He can't put on that drip, he ain't one of us
How you ridin' in a Benz and a Tonka truck?
How you got everybody lit, pipin' up?
Oh, she bad with no swag, I can pipe her up
Made my last one my last one, I'm wifin' her
Count the money up fast like I'm typin' somethin'
I'm the type to get active and never run (Wunna)
Keep the rulers, my niggas ain't scared of nothin' (nah)
Ain't no rules, you got racks, you can get it done (yeah)
On a light day I keep me a honey bun (one hundred)
Makin' hit after hit, call me Barry Bonds (hits)
For this Christmas, I bought everybody guns (swear)
Glocks and choppers and FN's for everyone (graat)
Take that roof off the car, let her feel the sun (wow)
My bro go see his barber five times a month (yeah)
Got this bitch out the college, she suckin' and swallow
I stick it (uh) and she feel it in her gut (in her gut)
We don't run from our problems, we stackin' up guala and guala
I'm tryna get that mega bucks (racks)
We them drippers, lil' nigga, best watch your step (them drippers)
This top shelf, got forty designer belts (drip)
4PF look like the new BMF
Think I'm deaf, got stones in my right and left (ice)
How you crank up that car? Ain't no key in there
Just pull up, spin they block and get out of there (get out of there)
Wake up, have a hard time findin' what to wear
Treat these hoes like a tire, I keep a spare
Want a strap because I'm war ready (war)
Check the trust, I'm countin' more fetti (yeah)
Skydweller, Jubilee and a Presi' (no cap)
Hundred fifty plain Richard Millie (no cap)
I'ma milk the game until it's empty
Lil' cuzzo spit that flame until it empty (yeah)
I am not a killer, but don't tempt me (nah)
Spendin' rate 'bout thousand to a fifty
Hot, hot, hot
I'm heatin' up
I f*ck with slimes and I'm gonna bust
He can't put on that drip, he ain't one of us
How you ridin' in a Benz and a Tonka truck?
How you got everybody lit, pipin' up?
Oh, she bad with no swag, I can pipe her up
Made my last one my last one, I'm wifin' her
Count the money up fast like I'm typin' somethin'
I'm the type to get active and never run
Writer: Chris Rosser, Dominique Jones, Sergio Kitchens
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
How
(W-W-W-William)
How I know if you die for me?
Know if you shoot for me?
How I know if you still love me? Yeah, yeah
How I know you won't steal from me?
Know you won't kill for me?
I know that you still love me, yeah, yeah
How I know you won't turn on me?
Feel like the love phony, gotta keep my gun on me, yeah, yeah
How I know you won't die for me?
Know you will ride for me, just don't ever lie to me, yeah, yeah
Thought I'd never see the day that you would switch up
Ain't no hard feelings, I'm wishin' you good luck
I can't lie, I miss your touch, you got that good love
I put diamonds on your hand, don't hold your fist up
How I know if I get jammed you gon' keep it real?
How you gon' say that I ain't solid? I ain't never squealed
If I die today, give it to my son, ain't writin' no will
All these thoughts inside my head, it got me poppin' pills
Runnin' with my steel, there's some niggas in the rear
If they get they chance they will
But I ain't worried, I'm gon' kill
I'm gon' drill every one of them
We gon' kill every one of them
How I know if you die for me?
Know if you shoot for me?
How I know if you still love me? Yeah, yeah
How I know you won't steal from me?
Know you won't kill for me?
I know that you still love me, yeah, yeah
How I know you won't turn on me?
Feel like the love phony, gotta keep my gun on me, yeah, yeah
How I know you won't die for me?
Know you will ride for me, just don't ever lie to me, yeah, yeah
One time to cross out Migo, he gon' take your life
So I don't understand how Plies ran off on the plug twice
And you can't remix none of that lean if it's not cut right
And you can't say you super trill 'cause you ain't cut right
Sex her once then kick her out 'cause I don't nut twice
The way that A$AP died don't sit in my gut right
And if we ever find the killer then he must die
And I'm always low on niggas, I don't trust high
I don't know if you gon' ride, don't know if you gon' slide
Don't know want me to die, I don't know if it's your pride
And if it is then hide it then
Me and Lil' Baby do it for the trenches, we gon' ride with them (for sure, for sure)
How I know if you die for me?
Know if you shoot for me?
How I know if you still love me? Yeah, yeah
How I know you won't steal from me?
Know you won't kill from me?
I know that you still love me, yeah, yeah
How I know you won't turn on me?
Feel like the love phony, gotta keep my gun on me, yeah, yeah
How I know you won't die for me?
Know you will ride for me, just don't ever lie to me, yeah, yeah
Writer: Dominique Jones, Durk D. Banks, Willie Jerome Byrd
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Grace
Got a lotta new flames, still need 'em blue
Three hundred fifty thou', times that by two
New Dawn, no roof, I still see the sky
Peace to my grandma, I can still see my guys
Turned his back, must've felt let down
Heard a down-set-hut, what you gon' bet now?
Yeah, I used to be a twerp, bitch, a vet now
Luke, get up, doggy, I need you
Only nigga made sure that I was eatin'
Free Nef still, nigga, RIP Reese
Get her nails done, still charge for the feature
Baby, we ain't that, nah, we ain't this
All that f*ckin', I don't do no kiss
Bitches ain't shit, word to my niggas
All in my mentions (yeah)
Bitch really wanna get hired
Tell the lil' hoes I'm Bryson
I done hit more shit than Mike Tyson
Get popped, nigga, I ain't doin' no fight
Sinnin' 'bout cash, I ain't doin' no right
Car too fast, can't stop at no light
I hit the gas, it skrrt and I pull off
I'm on they ass, I just took a year off
She shakin' her ass, call me when she get off
Took half a mil' for my lil' bro to get out
That new Richard Mille made me feel like a boss
Feel like I'm Meech when I'm ridin' in these cars
Who you know pull up, whole entourage in a foreign?
I got designer for days but it's somethin' about 'em
Go crazy for white Air Force One, maybe 'cause I'm a dope boy
He be loud, but he ain't makin' no noise
'Ventador on the ground like a skateboard
If I want it, I get it, I pay for it
I pay extra, I ain't tryna wait for it
Everything that I got, it was made for me
I was servin' them trap houses faithfully
Everybody with me gotta eat
Say your grace with me
Thou shall not try one of us, if they do, I'ma bust
Please don't reach for no chain
Not 'bout the set, but it's more 'bout respect
If they get me upset, they gon' die, that's on gang
Ran up my check, when I walk in the bank
They greet me at the door by my government name
I made a promise, I'm never gon' change
Rolls-Royce umbrella, I'm hopin' it rain, yeah
Right back on it, designer my garments
Corner store mornings, there until the sun down
I don't trust no one, I can't put my gun down
Goin' number one now, hottest out
Hands down, bands out, pants down, yeah, I'm thuggin'
I done got rich, everybody my cousin
You ain't servin' no packs with me, you ain't my brother
That chopper go through shit, I call it the cutter
I just bought a new whip, I went bought another
My mother, she happy now
Ain't no cap and gown, but I graduated
Her house paid for, and that new Mercedes
Know you see that they been tryna be me lately
I'm a heavy hitter like Gervonta Davis
That shit ain't gon' save 'em, leave 'em on the pavement
All I know is get this motherf*ckin' paper
Thou shall not try one of us, if they do, I'ma bust
Please don't reach for no chain
Not 'bout the set, but it's more 'bout respect
If they get me upset, they gon' die, that's on gang
Ran up my check, when I walk in the bank
They greet me at the door by my government name (hello?)
I made a promise, I'm never gon' change
Rolls-Royce umbrella, I'm hopin' it rain, yeah
Bitches ain't shit, doggybone, I get it
Fell in love twice, had me in my feelings
Three months, dropped damn near a half a million
Nigga, f*ck a house, I done damn lost a building
F*cked a nigga's ho, so he say he wanna kill me
I miss Tev, wish shit was different
I miss Nef, rest in peace to my nigga
Damn near went deaf, when they told me they killed you
Turn rat? Nigga, f*ck on
Thirteen thou' VVS buffs on
Still'll flood a nigga town with a truckload
Get the head and I'm out, I don't trust hoes
If the feds in the house, a nigga told on me
I pray to God my soul to keep
G5, just beat his murder
Body got picked up, doggy I'm hurt
Still pay the lawyer even though I'm nervous
Thou shall not try one of us, if they do, I'ma bust
Please don't reach for no chain
Not 'bout the set, but it's more 'bout respect
If they get me upset, they gon' die, that's on gang
Ran up my check, when I walk in the bank
They greet me at the door by my government name
I made a promise, I'm never gon' change
Rolls-Royce umbrella, I'm hopin' it rain, yeah
Writer: Dion Marquise Hayes, Dominique Jones, Zachary Thomas
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Live Off My Closet
(Who made this beat?)
Drippy
(Twysted Genius, baby)
I'm so drippy, I'm so
I could live off my closet before I go broke (broke)
I got too many cars, I ain't payin' no note (note)
Too many chains, go to sleep, I might choke (choke)
I be sippin' on syrup, I ain't drivin' no boat (boat)
We in the store, she don't know which one go
This bitch think that she slick, but I'm buyin' 'em both
We on Rodeo, lil' bro got his heater
I walk in Moncler and buy everyone coats
I'm a hyena since everyone G.O.A.T.'s
Team full of shooters, pull up and they score
I got the drop on the opp, it's a go
I get two hundred racks every night for a show
I know it's a blessin'
Christian Dior and Jordan 11's
I just hope I can dunk into Heaven
I just f*cked on an actress for breakfast, I hope she ain't messy
I just be f*ckin' bitches, I don't be textin' 'em
It ain't no in the middle, shoot the messenger
He won't let nobody get the best of him
Oh, you don't know Scotty? Take a Tesla
Plus she want let me get it in, so I left with her
I got too many women, Baby Hefner
I let the little bros keep the extra
I used the baking soda, we was stretchin' 'em
Making these deals, numbers come in decimals
Or I might get bored and buy a bitch a hair salon
I'ma pay for it, bruh, ain't never have to front
I make a million dollars every other month
As soon as I get done, I'ma give her some
Not like the rest of 'em, I'm a different one
I had to shoot back, I ain't get to run
Can't let a f*ck nigga take my mama's son
I could live off my closet before I go broke (broke)
I got too many cars, I ain't payin' no note (note)
Too many chains, go to sleep, I might choke (choke)
I be sippin' on syrup, I ain't drivin' no boat (boat)
We in the store, she don't know which one go
This bitch think that she slick, but I'm buyin' 'em both
We on Rodeo, lil' bro got his heater
I walk in Moncler and buy everyone coats
I could live off my closet before I go broke (broke)
I got too many cars, I ain't payin' no note (note)
Too many chains, go to sleep, I might choke (choke)
I be sippin' on syrup, I ain't drivin' no boat (boat)
We in the store, she don't know which one go
This bitch think that she slick, but I'm buyin' 'em both
We on Rodeo, lil' bro got his heater
I walk in Moncler and buy everyone coats
Grippin' that rod and I'm breakin' that law (yeah)
I got too much Givenchy in the closet (yeah)
Count up the cash and I'm drowsy (yeah)
And I got more oil than a Saudi (yeah)
I don't know what made 'em doubt me (yeah)
Made a hundred M's, shouldn't doubt me (yeah)
I got the jeweler, the mula (yeah)
I go to Jerusalem, they callin' me daddy (yeah)
Pray to Young Pluto and kick it like Judo (yeah)
I'm flippin' this money the fastest (yeah)
Bitches in love with the kid (oh, oh, oh)
Really f*ck with the kid, they gon' follow the protocol (oh, oh, oh)
Go out the country (oh, oh, oh)
Smoke on of the best bud, f*ck on the best whores (oh, oh, oh)
Ain't no more regular diamonds (oh, oh, oh)
My shit coming with a passport (oh, oh, oh)
And ain't worried 'bout the card declinin' (yeah)
I got three mil' in cash at the Waldorf (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I done went to New York to spend at Dior (yeah)
I got the gas like BP (Pluto)
Throw the party when you see the opps, nigga
No clown shit, we send 'em six feet
I done spent millions in CC (what up?)
I done made millions with RiRi (Super)
I could live off my closet before I go broke (broke)
I got too many cars, I ain't payin' no note (note)
Too many chains, go to sleep, I might choke (choke)
I be sippin' on syrup, I ain't drivin' no boat (boat)
We in the store, she don't know which one go
This bitch think that she slick, but I'm buyin' 'em both
We on Rodeo, lil' bro got his heater
I walk in Moncler and buy everyone coats
I could live off my closet before I go broke (broke)
I got too many cars, I ain't payin' no note (note)
Too many chains, go to sleep, I might choke (choke)
I be sippin' on syrup, I ain't drivin' no boat (boat)
We in the store, she don't know which one go
This bitch think that she slick, but I'm buyin' 'em both
We on Rodeo, lil' bro got his heater
I walk in Moncler and buy everyone coats
(I been making these deals, numbers come with decimals)
(I been making these deals, numbers come with decimals)
(I been making these deals, numbers come with decimals)
(I been making these deals, numbers come with decimals)
Writer: Deundraeus Portis, Dominique Jones, Nayvadius Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc.
Same Thing
(Tay Keith, f*ck these niggas up)
I been the type of guy she likes since middle school
Never thought that I'd get famous, always know that I'd be cool
Could've been f*cked on shawty, I just didn't wanna be rude
Eliantte diamonds, only the finest for your jewels
And my hitter dem be slidin', don't put cameras on my crew
I ain't doin' too bad, I'm somebody, you can Google me
I ain't never worried 'bout what they say that they gon' to do me
I just put in overtime, I'm doin' numbers like it's two of me
That was back then, time's change, this a newer me
Money conversations at the table, I speak fluently
Stay away from bad vibes, I can't see no nigga doin' me
Still give her a couple thousand, even though she would of did it free
They don't treat me like no rapper 'cause my vibe like I'm in the street
I'm one of the top five, it ain't too many guys as real as me
I barely get sleep, I'm tryna make sure everybody eat
Took a trip to overseas, I'm buyin' drip in other currencies
I'm on fire right now, and it ain't somethin' that's just currently
And a bitch told a lie if she told you she was curvin' me
And we all big dawgs, ain't gon' let my people work for me
911, we got a problem, it's an emergency, yeah
I heard that crime pays (uh)
They think we thugs 'cause we got ice, I'm goin' plain Jane
No matter what, at least a quarter for my main thing
Showed up on Forbes, I can't complain, I'm tryna maintain
Hop off a plane, pick up a check then do the same thing
I heard that crime pays
They think we thugs 'cause we got ice, I'm goin' plain Jane
No matter what, at least a quarter for my main thing
Showed up on Forbes, I can't complain, I'm tryna maintain
Hop off a plane, pick up a check then do the same thing
Lately I've been diggin' your vibe
I can tell by the look in your eyes
That you need to get some shit off your mind
I'll give you my time, give you jets in the sky
Have you runnin' 'round in laps for me
I perform, when I'm done, you should clap for me
You got problems on your head, you can chat with me
Have you runnin' 'round the globe chasin' racks with me
M's in plastic, sometimes I'm sarcastic
I just like to hear laughter, tryna ease all this pain
Took off fast, I know they hate how I passed 'em
You don't gotta be in the grave, they throwin' dirt on your name, yeah
I heard that crime pays (uh)
They think we thugs 'cause we got ice, I'm goin' plain Jane
No matter what, at least a quarter for my main thing
Showed up on Forbes, I can't complain, I'm tryna maintain
Hop off a plane, pick up a check then do the same thing
I heard that crime pays
They think we thugs 'cause we got ice, I'm goin' plain Jane
No matter what, at least a quarter for my main thing
Showed up on Forbes, I can't complain, I'm tryna maintain
Hop off a plane, pick up a check then do the same thing
Writer: Brytavious Lakeith Chambers, Dominique Jones, Jared Scharff
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Emotionally Scarred
A love letter came through the mail, it said, "I miss you"
I ripped it up and flushed with the tissue, try to forget you
I ain't got nothing against you, we human, we all got issues
But I'm tired of being tired of being tired
That part of me done died
I see it, then I don't, act like I'm blind
I'm confident it won't be one of mine
I know emotions come with lies, so I tell the truth all the time
Ain't got no sympathy for no bitch
I admit that I'm rich and I'm lit
Jumpin' up on stages, I get two hundred an occasion
Bro had really f*cked the game up, we made niggas shut they trap down
They see how I made it, I'm the reason they won't rap now
See me out in traffic, make a hater pull his hat down
The biggest OG's salute me, a stylist can't even style me
The robbers probably wanna get me, I'm hoppin' out Lamborghinis
The youngins turn in my city, they try me, I get it cracking
Some of this still would happen if I never had started rapping
My people them still steady trapping and they still be getting active
I tell 'em to chill, I'm tryna run up these M's
Paid cash and then he post the crib (nah)
I can't show nobody where my mama live, that's how it 'posed to feel
My niece just asked me were my diamonds real, I said, "Of course"
I just played the hand that I was dealt, didn't have to force
All around the world they know it's me, they hear my voice
And I done it all in a pair of Diors, yeah
Young age, learned how to get paid (we gon' get the money)
Big stage, long way from Section 8 (ballin' other countries)
Big wave, he gon' have to get saved (big old wave)
Ridin' in the foreign, chiefin' on the forest
I know I wasn't there for you, at least I said I'm sorry
You know what it was, I told you that I was heartless
I'm emotionally scarred, that ain't even your fault
But don't listen to them haters tryna fill your ears with salt
All this revenue coming in, I'll probably never spend
I just bought my BM a Benz, now that's another Benz
I just cut off all of my friends and brought my brothers in
I don't see nobody but me, who I'm gon' lose to?
I can't move around without tools, these niggas loose screws
I can see me taking the lead over the new school
They remember me from selling weed at my old school
Only hit it once and now it's old news
Blew up, who the f*ck would knew? Paint my Trackhawk Nipsey Blue
If I get one, you get one too, I really move how bosses move
I never call myself a G.O.A.T., I leave that love to the people
Everybody can't go to the top, I had to leave some people
I'ma be forever scheming, woke up, I thought I was dreaming
Watched my lil' boy play with toys, I just dropped a tear of joy
Some shit that I feel for
I been going crazy with that scoring, call me Baby Harden
They say I'll be great, I guess I'm waiting for it
Young age, learned how to get paid (we gon' get the money)
Big stage, long way from Section 8 (ballin' other countries)
Big wave, he gon' have to get saved (big old wave)
Ridin' in the foreign, chiefin' on the forest
I know I wasn't there for you, at least I said I'm sorry
You know what it was, I told you that I was heartless
I'm emotionally scarred, that ain't even your fault
But don't listen to them haters tryna fill your ears with salt
Young age, learned how to get paid (we gon' get the money)
Big stage, long way from Section 8 (ballin' other countries)
Big wave, he gon' have to get saved (big old wave)
Ridin' in the foreign, chiefin' on the forest
I know I wasn't there for you, at least I said I'm sorry
You know what it was, I told you that I was heartless
I'm emotionally scarred, that ain't even your fault
But don't listen to them haters tryna fill your ears with salt
Writer: Deundraeus Portis, Dominique Jones
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Reservoir Media Management, Inc.
Commercial
(Tay Keith this too hard)
(Tay Keith, f*ck these niggas up)
I paid some extra before we even come out
And don't even wear it to show I ain't playin'
I hit the bitch and I gave her some racks
And I pull up my pants, she know I ain't stayin'
Go on a store run and get rubber bands
I done got rich, I done put on my mans
Choppas in traffic, that's just how I'm livin'
They say that I'm trippin', they wouldn't understand
She take a trip, she come back with a tan
I take a trip, I come back with them bands
When I was dealin', it really was killin' them
Had 'em competin' tryna see what I'm payin'
She throw a hoodie on soon as we land
She don't like pics, I got too many fans
I run this shit, I can do what I want
And it's really a limit, you do what you can
I found the groove and I put that shit up
'Fore I run out of cash, they're gonna run out of land
I fell in love with this bitch 'cause her head was amazing
I swear I don't even know her name
I'm 'bout to takeoff, I gave 'em a chance
They gave me ten M&M's on advance
Thought I'd be trappin' forever, but God came and blessed me
I guess He was part of the plan
How he on fire, but he cool as a fan?
Can't get at you, we gon' get at your man
They can't relate to me 'cause I be poppin'
And put in they face, let them see what I'm sayin'
I'm rockin' shows like I play with a band
Free all the bros, know I would if I can
If I don't mean it, I swear I ain't sayin' it
'Fore I was 21, swear I was savage, smashin'
Hold up, who got Backwood? I need roll up
Dior store can't keep up with me
I'm spendin' thousands like money is nothin' to me
I'm never comin' back, them people under me
Not the fans, yeah, the haters
Lotta bands on the table
They say I went commercial, I ain't know it
They want me catch a murder, I ain't goin' back
Play myself out my position, who doin' that?
We got FN with extensions, we throwin' that
Her ass got my full attention, she throwin' that
Niggas talkin' way too much, I ain't goin' back
Forth with niggas, 'cause these niggas be holdin' racks
On the real, yeah, we know you don't own them racks
Four pockets full, push 'em down, they start pokin' back
I turned 8 million right until I'm a quarterback
Spent a million like I'm tryna bring Kobe back, 24 (woo)
I'm ready, I'm ready, I use the Crock-Pot like it's Betty
They say the drop hot, and it's ready
Might stretch it out but it ain't fetti (yes)
Say my dawg doin' time, but I know he ain't gonna snitch
'Cause it's still some shit he didn't tell me
My dawg stabbed his celly, he told me the whole story over the celly (brr, hello?)
Went up on my price, in my pocket like Kelly
F*cked her in the telly', no I can't not say who, no telly
My head gettin' heavy
And you know I still got Balmains on my ass
No, I can't do no Amiris
Said I'm takin' trips, long flights they scary
She said her birthday in March, okay, cool
So, that means you an Aries
I told her, "Gotta go," she said, "You serious?"
Diamonds cold, it's December, my vibe Sagittarius
Hold up, who got Backwood? I need roll up
Dior store can't keep up with me
I'm spendin' thousands like money is nothin' to me
I'm never comin' back, them people under me
Not the fans, yeah, the haters
Lotta bands on the table
They say I went commercial, I ain't know it
They want me catch a murder, I ain't goin' back
Play myself out my position, who doin' that?
I can switch up and come back another way
Yeah, the vibe ain't right, come back another day
Biggest dripper, I start up a tidal wave
We mix weed, we put it in a microwave
Batch for twenty-three, like I know Michael J
He can say what he want, but he gotta pay
Used to hide all the guns where my mama stay
Send my drugs 'round the corner
I pay all these bills, I'm a grown up
My cars look different, I own 'em
I ain't with no leasin', my bitch tellin' me I need credit
It's loud and clear if I said it
I come from the gutter, I spend me a hundred on Chevy's
You can take me out the hood
But you can't take the hood out of me
Know the hood proud of me
I Givenchy my tee, went and upgrade my teeth
Yeah I dropped out of school, but that paper on me
Hold up, who got Backwood? I need roll up
Dior store can't keep up with me
I'm spendin' thousand like money is nothin' to me
I'm never comin' back, them people under me
Not the fans, yeah, the haters
Lotta bands on the table
They say I went commercial, I ain't know it
They want me catch a murder, I ain't goin' back
Play myself out my position, who doin' that?
Writer: Dominique Jones, Symere Woods, Brytavious Chambers
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Forever
(Who made this beat?)
(Twysted Genius, baby)
If I sell my soul, I'll take it back, I'm slime forever (gimme that)
I put bust down on the whole gang, we gon' shine together
She got Rollies on her timepiece when she step out, she be flashin'
Whenever we get alone, I give her half and she get nasty
My jeans is special edition, Amiri send me these pants
Now everybody be tough, is he gangster or he just actin'?
Ain't got no card, don't do no fraud
Seem like all of my bitches plastic
No, you niggas don't want smoke
Let's see who run it up the fastest
Keep that fire when I'm cold, I can't let 'em catch me lackin'
I don't know if they think I'm sweet because I'm rappin'
But f*ck 'em, we get active
Wrap it, make sure they can't smell it
Drive too far? Don't matter, I'll mail it
Tryna steal swag, I see it, I smell it
Used to get mad, probably beat up my celly
Now I sell bags every day in my city
Ain't doin' no playin', when they come, be ready
I got murder on my mind like that lil' nigga Melly (free Melly)
Big boy rocks, stud the same size as Nelly (ten karats)
Long as I live, I'ma get this cheddar
Ever since the bitch left, doin' lil' better
Which car I'ma drive? It depends on the weather
Rolls-Royce truck pull up like, "Hello"
Pretty, tall, light skin, shake like Jell-O
If the bitch act bougie, I'ma take her to the ghetto
If I ain't smokin' Runtz, then it's probably Limoncello
You got a lil' boy 'cause you not on my level
Sell P's every day in the hood on my schedule
Young nigga give a old ho groove like Stella
Jam don't shake like that, that's Jell-O
Made a whole M on the road, then lay low
I'm a real boss in my hood, I got say-so
I was havin' choppas 'fore I heard about Dracos
Put me in the casket with a bust down halo, yeah
If I sell my soul, I'll take it back, I'm slime forever (gimme that)
I put bust down on the whole gang, we gon' shine together
She got Rollies on her timepiece when she step out, she be flashin'
Whenever we get alone, I give her half and she get nasty
My jeans is special edition, Amiri send me these pants
Now everybody be tough, is he gangster or he just actin'?
Ain't got no card, don't do no fraud
Seem like all of my bitches plastic
No, you niggas don't want smoke
Let's see who run it up the fastest
Keep that fire when I'm cold, I can't let 'em catch me lackin'
I don't know if they think I'm sweet because I'm rappin'
But f*ck 'em, we get active
Suavé (huh), sippin' promethazine latte (yeah)
Sticky-ass weed like Scotch tape (yeah)
Big beast, call me Banijay (hoo)
Me and Lil Baby compadre (yeah)
What these niggas talkin' 'bout? Blasé (huh)
Diamonds on me, that's pavé (huh)
So bright, can't see, that's a blind date (huh)
Molly freak tryna get highway (ooh)
I got M-O-L-L, why wait?
Only once the drugs are done
I feel like, "Where the hell is my grave?"
Heartbeat beatin' at a high rate
World stop spinnin', start to vibrate
It's a cold world, so my house in Miami still came with a fireplace
Pupils dilate, don't judge me
I'm with a sex slave, she like rough D
I got a text straight from the plug, he said "There's a drought"
I said, "Funny", now we laughin'
And only time that we act, is when we act asses
Nigga, we active
So if you 'bout that life, get out that casket
If I sell my soul, I'll take it back, I'm slime forever (ooh, gimme that)
I put bust down on the whole gang, we gon' shine together (yeah, yeah)
She got Rollies on her timepiece when she step out, she be flashin'
Whenever we get alone, I give her half and she get nasty
My jeans is special edition, Amiri send me these pants
Now everybody be tough, is he gangster or he just actin'?
Ain't got no card, don't do no fraud
Seem like all of my bitches plastic
No, you niggas don't want smoke
Let's see who run it up the fastest
Keep that fire when I'm cold, I can't let 'em catch me lackin'
I don't know if they think I'm sweet because I'm rappin'
But f*ck 'em, we get active
Yeah, f*ck 'em we get active, yeah
We can get active, yeah
Still got some active, yeah
F*ck 'em we get active
F*ck 'em we get active
Writer: Dominique Jones, Dwayne Carter, Deundraeus Portis
Copyright: Lyrics © TUNECORE INC, TuneCore Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Cant Explain
(Cook that shit up, Quay)
Don't know how to feel, I got some feelings that I can't explain
Yeah
Clothes busted, nose dusty, watched the older bros hustlin'
Started off wrong, but you couldn't tell me I ain't know nothin'
All I ever want was to put on and give my folks somethin'
Knockin' at my sister window, comin' in at 4 somethin'
Mama trippin' 'bout the way I'm livin' and how my hoes comin' (in and out)
Caught the next-door neighbor slippin', we slimed him, left his nose runnin' (in his house)
Knowin' I can't lie, so when she asked me, I make no comment
Terrorizin', thuggin', doin' dumb shit, makin' no money
It was time for me to go up, got a pack and made it blow up
Went into that corner store until I got it all
Know I skipped a couple parts, but I can't never tell 'em all
But the moral of the story, I got it all out the mud
The way karma make me feel, I swear I think I'm in love
Been f*ckin' strippers since I was lil', fell in love with the club
Bruh gave me everything I need, knew what to say to the plug
I got my hands on a few mil', but shit, it still ain't enough
It's like my life is like a dream, but I'm still here when I wake
I'm gon' get everything I need, I'll do whatever it take
I caught a case, Red got away, I should've jumped in the lake
I thought about it the other day when I slid through in a Wraith
Damn, my life's changed, check my ice game
Came from standin' in the rain, to top floor gettin' brain
Still actin' the same, I walk in, they know my name
Don't know how to feel, I got some feelings that I can't explain
Damn, my life's changed, check my ice game
Came from standin' in the rain, to top floor gettin' brain
Still actin' the same, I walk in, they know my name
Don't know how to feel, I got some feelings that I can't explain
Bad bitch, we both young
They say that I'm cheatin' and we both dumb
But Baby got her wrist hittin', both arms
G-Wagen and Range Rover, both of 'em
If we love forever, you get new homes
I just wish that other, could move on
She probably be rockin' that new two-tone
My life goin' good, why would I do wrong?
I'm livin' my best just like Lil Duval
I didn't get the message, and it's screw y'all
I don't want no issues, can't be beefin' with my family
I don't want no problems, just make sure my kids can count and read
And it ain't no pressure 'bout the money, I won't even see it
It's bigger, it's the principle, I hope one day that you can see
We got a whole seed to raise, it's bigger than you and me
How I'm not gon' do that? I spend millions on my jewelry
The only reason I'm mentionin' this, 'cause I'm tired of this foolery
I'm just emptyin' my thoughts, I can't keep 'em in a box
Ain't no hard feelings at all, I want everyone to ball
Damn, my life's changed, check my ice game
Came from standin' in the rain, to top floor gettin' brain
Still actin' the same, I walk in, they know my name
Don't know how to feel, I got some feelings that I can't explain
Damn, my life's changed, check my ice game
Came from standin' in the rain, to top floor gettin' brain
Still actin' the same, I walk in, they know my name
Don't know how to feel, I got some feelings that I can't explain
Don't know how to feel, I got some feelings that I can't explain
I said, I don't know how to feel, I got some feelings that I can't explain
Writer: Dominique Jones, Christopher N'Quay, Chris Rosser
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
No Sucker
(Tay Keith, f*ck these niggas up)
Uh-oh, the game in trouble
Started off small, now they payin' me double
Yeah, you can drip check, baby, like Mustard, yeah
Uh-oh, you better not trust 'em
Rotate 'em, all these hoes on shuffle
Money team, got a whole M in a duffel
Bitch got the nerve to say she don't like rubbers
She don't know that I know she be f*ckin' my brother
Bitch, I ain't goin' out like no sucker, yeah
West Coast, smokin' on Gushers, yeah
Cartier watch, shit busted, yeah
I done ran up a whole lot, yeah
I don't want the twat, just top, yeah
Goin' up a whole 'nother notch, yeah
Can't be stuck in one slot, yeah
Levels, Rolls-Royce truck in the ghetto
F's on the wheel wave hello, yeah
Bitch probably mad I ain't dello
La-la-la, I am not Carmelo
Word to the opps, they gon' drop, better lay low
Haha, nah, I'm just playin', they can come out
Runnin' up the money, I ain't never tryna run out, yeah
Police get behind me, I'ma burn out (smash)
How you get it 'fore it even come out? (Cash)
How you make a milli' in a drought? (Bag)
Traphouse geeked up fast
My mama don't like it, she ain't got no swag
I don't stay with my mama, I been in my bag
Yeah, I got it, nigga, f*ck what I had, yeah
Y'all niggas need to give me my swag back
Go against me, get hashtagged
Ain't stuntin' that, nigga, I'm passed that
How your jacket Dior and your pants match?
Road runnin', bringin' these bands back
You can take it how you want it, I'm sayin' facts
They done crunked me up, I was layin' back
I'm the wave, nigga, give me my sand back
Hopped out on 'em with a chopstick
They done killed that boy with a hand strap
You straight, I ain't givin' your mans dap
Uh-oh, the game in trouble
Started off small, now they payin' me double
Yeah, you can drip check, baby, like Mustard, yeah
Uh-oh, you better not trust 'em
Rotate 'em, all these hoes on shuffle
Money team, got a whole M in a duffel
Bitch got the nerve to say she don't like rubbers
She don't know that I know she be f*ckin' my brother
Bitch, I ain't goin' out like no sucker, yeah
West Coast, smokin' on Gushers, yeah
Cartier watch, shit busted, yeah
I done ran up a whole lot, yeah
I don't want the twat, just top, yeah
Goin' up a whole 'nother notch, yeah
Can't be stuck in one slot, yeah
I'm goin' up a whole 'nother notch
Lil' bruh just put a nigga on Fox, damn
A rock fell out of my watch
I ain't get mad, I just switched out clocks (hahaha)
Treat a bad bitch like a thot (what you do?)
Burn her head pullin' off the lot
Water on water, rockin' ice on the yacht
Bought a traphouse and it came with a pot (ugh, ugh)
The game in trouble like some badass childrens
Did they just really give me 80K for thirty minutes? Yup
And can't nobody tell me how to spend it, bitch
Send it to the hood, let 'em flip it (in the trenches)
She want me to love on her, no way
Ain't José, I don't do what the hoes say (nope)
HD, Blu-Ray, clear shit (what that mean?)
Diamonds on me look 4K (ugh)
Married to the money for better or worse
But nah I ain't walked down no aisle (caked up)
That lil' nigga f*cked up
He'll walk a nigga down with a Kool-Aid smile
Yesterday spent 40K on a necklace
I'm flexin', look close and you'll see your reflection
She a lil' gangster, I like her complexion
She get so wetty, then bust like confetti
If I don't do nothing, that money, I get it
Uh-oh, the game in trouble
Started off small, now they payin' me double
Yeah, you can drip check, baby, like Mustard, yeah
Uh-oh, you better not trust 'em
Rotate 'em, all these hoes on shuffle
Money team, got a whole M in a duffel
Bitch got the nerve to say she don't like rubbers
She don't know that I know she be f*ckin' my brother
Bitch, I ain't goin' out like no sucker, yeah
West Coast, smokin' on Gushers, yeah
Cartier watch, shit busted, yeah
I done ran up a whole lot, yeah
I don't want the twat, just top, yeah
Goin' up a whole 'nother notch, yeah
Can't be stuck in one slot, yeah
Writer: Brytavious Lakeith Chambers, Demario Dewayne White Jr., Dominique Jones
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
We Should
Shit, nigga just goddamn snatched one of his daughters, now she trippin'
We tellin' these niggas, they can't burn out, man, what's up?
(Wheezy outta here)
Started with a penny, now it's racked up to a million (woo)
Rappin' rappin' niggas can't compare, they like my children (yeah)
I know bitches tryna get to know a nigga 'cause his digit
You a Honda Civic whipper, in my (in what?) chameleon (hey)
We should start a group and we can call it New Edition
Maybe we can do it different, prolly make a hundred million (woo)
I come from a place between the bricks where it was hard at (woo)
Whenever I ain't around, they talkin' flauge, I had to fall back
Wrist a Honda Civic, Lamborghini arms (the 'ghini)
We get plenty of pussy (what?), nah-nah-nah-nah (nah-nah-nah-nah)
Don't you call me with it (don't you call me with it)
Boss nigga, we don't talk 'bout chickens (brr, brr), nah-nah-nah-nah
My Rolls-Royce in the projects, they look at me like I'm God
Don't ask me 'bout no such and such, don't speak about no charge
I could stack my money different, every ten go in a rubber band
Too much attention on these rappers, f*ck it, we gon' whack their man
Some shit I don't understand, I go get it, I never ask
I don't condone that robbin', but if you slime, suggest you wear a mask
Treat my niggas and my bitches all like players, buy 'em all bags
Wish I would've answered for the homies that I can't call back
Started with a penny, now it's racked up to a million (woo)
Rappin' rappin' niggas can't compare, they like my children (yeah)
I know bitches tryna get to know a nigga 'cause his digit
You a Honda Civic whipper, in my (in what?) chameleon (hey)
We should start a group and we can call it New Edition
Maybe we can do it different, prolly make a hundred million (woo)
I come from a place between the bricks where it was hard at (woo)
Whenever I ain't around, they talkin' flauge, I had to fall back
My dawg just lost his dawg into the system, it got me f*cked up
I can't tell him nothin' negative, so I told him he gon' luck up
Had a bittersweet birthday, got a bad call in a Rolls truck (what?)
Red guts look watermelon and spaghetti and some ketchup (hey)
All my niggas leavin' me, this shit got me depressed (whoa)
Thought he was gon' wreck the Maserati or the 'Vette
But he on the yard with the old dawgs, they a wreck (huh)
I missed a court call, what they said?
No more fake text messages, leave 'em all on read (yeah)
And this game some bullshit, but they payin' so I play it (I play it)
Cartier earrings, act like I don't hear what they be sayin' (yeah)
Keep that shit too solid, I spent millions on my family (woo)
None of that shit promised, I pay cash, I take chances (woo)
I don't understand nothin', I don't want no advance
Blood on these diamonds, they look good, they dance
Big truck pull up like a blue ambulance
Started with a penny, now it's racked up to a million (woo)
Rappin' rappin' niggas can't compare, they like my children (yeah)
I know bitches tryna get to know a nigga 'cause his digit
You a Honda Civic whipper, in my (in what?) chameleon (hey)
We should start a group and we can call it New Edition
Maybe we can do it different, prolly make a hundred million (woo)
I come from a place between the bricks where it was hard at (woo)
Whenever I ain't around, they talkin' flauge, I had to fall back
Writer: Dominique Jones, Jeffery Lamar, Wesley Tyler Glass
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Catch the Sun
(Hit-Boy)
Seems like I been runnin' outta time
Yeah, we still so young
And got so much to find
We can't never let 'em break our mind
We gotta stay strong
Conquer and don't divide
I come in peace, my heart already set on fire
If it ain't color, what's the difference from you and I?
I'll let you decide or come up with some repeated lies
I'm just tired of my kind gotta be the one to die
Lookin' in the sky, I know you with me, I can't cry
Standin' what I stand on, I can't never switch sides
Sometimes I just wanna pop out on 'em, flip out
But I put my head on, I pray, I stay from off that route
Thinkin' 'bout my niggas, I ain't seem 'em in a while
Thinkin' 'bout my son, I just had another child
I been thinkin' back on bro, like, "What the f*ck we gon' do now?"
On this road to redemption, this shit get rocky and it's wild
I can tell you 'bout it
I'm so dumb
That I was thinkin' that they could
When they really can't, yeah
I was thinkin' that they was, when they really ain't
It's my fault, I can't blame no one
If we take off now, we can catch the sun
Maybe watch it set, have sex, get some rest
I'm so dumb
That I was thinkin' that they could
When they really can't, yeah
I was thinkin' that they was, when they really ain't
It's my fault, I can't blame no one
If we take off now, we can catch the sun
Maybe watch it set, have sex, get some rest
Know you be behind me if it ever came to this
But I never would've thought
That we'll have to take this risk
Or ever be in this position
Just keep ridin', don't go missin'
If we in this together, this the way it 'posed to feel
I'm goin' out with a bang, I'm tellin' you what it is
If I get racial profiled where I live
'Cause my crib bigger than theirs, or my cars up to date
Or it's probably be my girl shape, they probably wanna date her
Or they heard I got my cake up
Middle finger to them haters
My life finally matters, I got up and I'ma stay up
I know it lookin' like a dream, but it ain't everything it seem
Ain't no tellin' where I'd be if I ain't have God or ain't have my team
Can't let 'em trick me out the streets, I got a mind of my own
I left the house at sixteen, I told my mama, "I'm grown"
Been through a lot of situations, I can handle my own
If I had only one call, I know you'll pick up the phone
If they ain't with us, we gone
I'm so dumb
That I was thinkin' that they could
When they really can't, yeah
I was thinkin' that they was, when they really ain't
It's my fault, I can't blame no one
If we take off now, we can catch the sun
Maybe watch it set, have sex, get some rest
I'm so dumb
That I was thinkin' that they could
When they really can't, yeah
I was thinkin' that they was, when they really ain't
It's my fault, I can't blame no one
If we take off now, we can catch the sun
Maybe watch it set, have sex, get some rest
Writer: Chauncey A. Hollis, Dominique Jones
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Consistent
(Cook that shit up, Quay)
This ain't the vibe that I need
Stop the beat, G5 free
I be spendin' racks on these jeans
I'm too real, f*ck is y'all mean?
I ain't have to sell you no dream
I said what it was, you didn't believe me
You be the cake and I be the cream
Now I look up and then she was leaving
I'm on the way, cannot be late
Speedin' through traffic like I'm in a race
I wanted it now, she want me to wait
I'm one of a kind, so you gotta taste it
Granddad died, knew I wouldn't make it
I'm a real one, you can't fake that
Most of my niggas still be takin'
I got rich, this shit still don't faze me
You only get one call, I can't chase her
Might take one shot, a lil' chaser
Stayin' up now for us to f*ck later
Mama used to tell me times would get greater
Cartier diamonds blockin' these haters
Dior drip, shit gettin' tapered
I just spent a Bentley truck with lil' Tatum
Favor for favor, nigga, I don't pay them
Get off my dick, nigga, we don't play them, yeah
Look like it, we don't stay here
Makin' half a million dollar plays, juggs
Still chunkin' up neighborhoods
Grass cut, sure the neighbors good
My partner's mama know I'm really hustlin'
If the spot hot, we invade houses
We got kicked out, go in they house, yeah
It was hot and it was dark and I had thought of ending it all
Then the sun had came out and I looked up and I seen God
Ain't gon' lie like it was easy, it's the truth, this shit been hard
I done finally got an award, yeah
Tired of this car, then switch it (switch up)
Tired of my ho, new bitch me (please)
At this point, this shit pimpin' (pimpin')
Never off, be consistent (huh)
Glock two-three extension (bah-bah)
Handle the business, don't mention
I ain't even have a pot to piss in
Now I got 'em mad, I'm turnin' livid
Tired of this car, then switch it (switch up)
Tired of my ho, new bitch me (please)
At this point, this shit pimpin' (pimpin')
Never off, be consistent (huh)
Glock two-three extension (bah-bah)
Handle the business, don't mention
I ain't even have a pot to piss in
Now I got 'em mad, I'm turnin' livid
My cars come with stars and kits
None of my kids gon' starve for shit
You weren't even here when I started this
All the drugs I sold, all the shit I took
I done seen so much, I can write a book
Ain't stuntin' that ho, I can buy that look
Clothes off, how your body look?
I been 'bout business, I'm still a crook
I get in my mode, they all be shook
Said that's your bro, y'all all get pushed
You was in the house on punishment
I was in the hood sellin' strong ass kush
Your cuz came through with that Reggie Bush
Give me style and credit for all his looks
Sold-out shows in the DMV
Now Shaquille O'Neal can't lil' boy me
Had some dirt off in my diamonds, had to brush it off
I was supposed to be somewhere workin', I'm somewhere f*ckin' off
I get checks in by the contract like I'm playin' ball
I been hanging 'round some millionaires, it's safe to say it's rubbin' off
Tired of this car, then switch it (switch up)
Tired of my ho, new bitch me (please)
At this point, this shit pimpin' (pimpin')
Never off, be consistent (huh)
Glock two-three extension (bah-bah)
Handle the business, don't mention
I ain't even have a pot to piss in
Now I got 'em mad, I'm turnin' livid
Tired of this car, then switch it (switch up)
Tired of my ho, new bitch me (please)
At this point, this shit pimpin' (pimpin')
Never off, be consistent (huh)
Glock two-three extension (bah-bah)
Handle the business, don't mention
I ain't even have a pot to piss in
Now I got 'em mad, I'm turnin' livid
Writer: Dominique Jones, Christopher N'Quay Rosser
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Gang Signs
(DJ Paul)
If you niggas ain't scared, throw yo sets (throw-throw 'em up)
If you niggas ain't scared, throw yo sets (throw-throw 'em up)
If you niggas (throw 'em up, let me see)
If you niggas (throw 'em up, let me see)
If you niggas ain't scared, throw yo sets (throw 'em up, let me see)
First of all, you know I bang 4's (4)
Never met JAY-Z, but in my hood I'm like Hov (Roc)
Everyday a holiday, my lifestyle goals (goals)
Everything right in rose, I don't really like gold (nah)
Came through in the Maserati (skrrt), knew I was gon' get it poppin'
Serve a nigga in every hood, Baby good with everybody (good)
With no understanding, I ain't planyin', let's get it clarified
I just spent a hunnid on a chain and didn't care about it
Try me, they gon' hear about it, make a call to every side
Drop a bag and air 'em out, get the drop on every house
Nah, I'm really playin', I'm just sayin', I don't play at all
I been in the field for so long, but I ain't playin' ball
Choppa chop his hand off, found the plug and ran off
Think I need a agent the way I play it, call up Rich Paul
Never fold and never forget the code, you better stand tall
I done put them bags from Gresham Road to West End Mall
Try and knock your mans off, I know it's too much tension (throw-throw 'em up)
With you bitches
Niggas better stick to rappin' 'fore I click and get to trippin' (throw-throw 'em up)
I got double-digit millions, and I still be with the killers (throw 'em up)
Boy, I gotta be the realest livin', can I get a witness? (Amen) (throw-throw 'em up)
Nobody ain't stressin' on my side (nah)
4PF the gang and niggas know how we gon' ride
Couple choppas, couple stolen cars, it's time to slide
I hope the cameras don't catch the tag, and if they do, we'll be alright
Yeah
Where you from? How you come? Yeah, yeah (going dumb)
Where you from? (I'm from 4) How you come? (Going dumb)
Throw it up, let me see
Throw it up, let me see
Throw it up, let me see
Throw it up, let me see
Where you from? (I'm from 4) How you come? (Going dumb)
Where you from? (I'm from 4) How you come? (Going dumb)
Throw it up, let me see
Throw it up, let me see
Throw it up, let me see
Throw it up, let me see
I got 'em jockin', watchin', pockets always sloppy
Be with papi, play, he pop your noggin, better play with caution
I'm the same one who used to sell the weed then went to Washington
Who you know that went to prison, came back home and straight pocketed?
We ain't whippin' shit, straight droppin' it
Let 'em keep the extras, we on top of it at this point
I done ran my money long as Lee Street through East Point
Supercharge my motor for the pig, hit it, oink-oink, yeah
Runnin' up the paper like I never woulda thought of (throw-throw 'em up)
Make sure everybody eat 'cause that's the way that I was brought up (throw-throw 'em up)
4's in this bitch (throw 'em up), I'm talkin' really, really rich (throw 'em up)
I got my young niggas rich, they probably f*ckin' on your daughter (Baby)
Where you from? (I'm from 4) How you come? Yeah, yeah (going dumb)
Where you from? (I'm from 4) How you come? (Going dumb)
Throw it up, let me see
Throw it up, let me see
Throw it up, let me see
Throw it up, let me see
Where you from? (I'm from 4) (throw-throw 'em up) How you come? (Going dumb)
Where you from? (I'm from 4) How you come? (Going dumb)
Throw it up, let me see (throw 'em up)
Throw it up, let me see (throw 'em up)
Throw it up, let me see
Throw it up, let me see
Throw-throw 'em up
Throw 'em up
Throw 'em up
Throw
Writer: Dominique Jones, Paul D. Beauregard, Tim Joel Moore
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Spirit Music Group
Hurtin
(Cook that shit up, Quay)
What's the chances that you'd make it from the bottom?
Let's go
Gotta beat the odds, I'm tryna blend in (blend)
Hit that boy so many times, he made CNN
Fear of God pants, I don't fear men
Pull up in an old-school, the fifty in the rear end, big dawg
Takin' chances, gettin' packs, and tryna get 'em back
I watched the law take my bro, I'm tryna get him back
I pray to God that I don't have to get nobody whacked
Ain't gettin' into that, I try to tell 'em facts
What's the chances that you run you up a couple mil'?
And you really come from sleepin' out the projects
What's the chances that you run you up a couple mil'?
And your two main men catch a body
I got it the worstest, I ain't have to rehearse this
Made me who I am, I'm gettin' bands, I'm breakin' curses
Trap spot do six figures, still got sheets, f*ck curtains
Excuse me as I go off, have flashbacks in my verses, I'm tellin' you
I done put my heart inside a box and tried to sell it to 'em
Beefin' with my partners, do a nigga like I never knew him
F*cked around and seen her with a nigga, I woulda never knew it
Always talkin' 'bout what I'm gon' do, but I don't ever do it, yeah
Beefin' with myself
Keep on wanting syrup, but knowin' it don't help (it don't)
It's like I got money to please everybody else
They act like they with you, but I'm knowin' they don't care
They in it for self (yeah), I got it for sale if it's rollin' (rollin')
I got out of jail and I showed 'em (showed 'em)
Couple bitches know they wish they would've held it down
It feel like they build me up, try to tear me down
What's the chances that you run you up a couple mil'?
And you really come from sleepin' out the projects
What's the chances that you run you up a couple mil'?
And your two main men catch a body
I gotta stay solid
I grew up 'round dope boys, I don't need no stylist
I got grown man money, can't be actin' childish (no childish)
I been through too much shit, barely even smile (huh?)
Sippin' on this red, I wish bruh was with me now (now)
It was time that we'll go broke, we'll pick a play and take 'em down
Kick me when I'm down, when I get up, I'll prolly shit on you
I can't even lie, I'll prolly see 'em, I just spit on 'em
These pieces I got lit on me, this piece I got gon' hit on men
I ain't never did no fraud, but I'm known for pullin' cards
Ask about me in my neighborhood, I'm known for goin' hard
I've been bustin' on that Glizzy ever since I had got robbed (baow, baow, baow)
I done really beat the odds
What's the chances that you run you up a couple mil'?
And you really come from sleepin' out the projects
What's the chances that you run you up a couple mil'?
And your two main men catch a body
What's the chances that you run you up a couple mil'?
And you really come from sleepin' out the projects
What's the chances that you run you up a couple mil'?
And your two main men catch a body
(I got it the worstest)
Writer: Dominique Jones, Christopher N'Quay Rosser
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Forget That
My diamonds hit harder when the light off
I ride private to my shows, just a write-off
(This beat from Murda) (Murda)
Got a thousand pounds for a thousand, buy them bitches now
First they tried to steal my style, now they tryna steal my sound
Thank God, I ain't been broke in a while
Do what I do to a T, you my child
I left the bitch in the field and she sour
Move like a ghost in my town, I got power
Reach for a chain on my neck, hear a boaw
I'm hittin' 'em hard, make 'em throw in the towel
Don't get 'em started, if you ask me, I'm the hardest
Ain't come to play with these boys, I ain't Carti
AMG big body, sound like it farted
I hurt they feelings, ain't telling' 'em sorry
These niggas boring, I'm on some more shit
Hundred racks spent on my teeth, I like flossin'
Ran up ten million and still ain't get cocky
F*ck your opinion, don't need it, I'm poppin'
Told all the bros catch an opp, then you drop him
Everyone hot on my label, got options
Send your deposit, we come to rock shit
Breakin' in cars, my lil' bro like a locksmith
That nigga throw it up, he on them Roxies
Why you keep buyin' these chains and these watches?
How can I not? Everything I get profit
Upped all my drip 'cause my Crips might be watchin'
I really go from these projects to projects
They gotta take it with ease, they can't stop it
F*ck it, ain't letting' 'em breathe, they can die
Think 'bout the bros every time I get high
Free the guys
Baby
My diamonds hit harder, I ain't in no competition
Not to mention, just a lil' bit richer, can't forget that (nah)
Flew here, we got chartered (chartered)
Shawty, she so raw, I might just let her have my daughter
Naw, I'm trippin', yeah, forget that
This the get-back, yeah
Had a lil' ten bands, I spent that shit on denim
I pull up Usain Bolt Trackhawk, this is not no rental, yeah
Project runner, I came up playin' cops and robbers
You the guy with the badge, and I'm the nigga with the chopper
My nigga catch bodies in the daytime (yeah, yeah)
VLONE Runtz, this shit won't make it past a canine
I know real trappers that stay on the block, but they don't play lines
But if they see 12, they know to run, though, like they Rajon
I stack that shit up to the ceiling, no more sharin' clothes
I bought a pendant, came from wifey, but I ain't proposed
Ridin' with an AR, but he got murked with a revolver
I sent the crackhead in the pharmacy for cough syrup
No, she can't play me, but if she try, I'ma dog her
They been askin' questions crazy, "Is you 'bout to drop a tape yet?"
"Is you tryna go independent? Rylo did you sign with Baby?"
Rolex like G-Shock to us, that's 'cause we finally made it
My diamonds hit harder, I ain't in no competition
Not to mention, just a lil' bit richer, can't forget that (nah)
Flew here, we got chartered (chartered)
Shawty, she so raw, I might just let her have my daughter
Naw, I'm trippin', yeah, forget that
This the get-back
My diamonds hit harder, I ain't in no competition
Not to mention, just a lil' bit richer, can't forget that (nah)
Flew here, we got chartered (chartered)
Shawty, she so raw, I might just let her have my daughter
Naw, I'm trippin', yeah, forget that
This the get-back, yeah
(Had a lil' ten bands, I spent that shit on denim)
Writer: Dominique Jones, Shane Lindstrom, Tyler William Armes
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Solid
Mmm
Mmm-mmm
Yeah, f*ck it, let me pop my shit one time
Nobody got hit, spin the block again (yeah, yeah)
I done been too solid, somethin' got to give (yeah, yeah)
Rockin' real diamonds before I got the deal
Through the grace of God, we got away, so now we gotta chill
They thought it was rap cap and I told 'em that I got a mil'
You can get whatever if you ask me, you ain't gotta steal
My lil' woadie said he fightin' demons, feel like he gotta kill
And I just left the hood to catch a vibe and that shit give me chills
One hand on my steering wheel, other arm to work the blicky
I'ma be forever gang but smart enough to keep my distance
Product of the real trenches, that's why I wear a trench coat
Damn near f*cked my life gamblin', bet it all on ten-to-four
Rap get slow, I'm sellin' loads, can't get caught with no skinny ho
Can't get caught with no ho at all, bitch, don't slam my door that hard
I pull up like, "Oh my Lawd," she wanna shop, she hold my card
Glock four-fifth my bodyguard, I sip syrup, no noddin' off
If you know you owe me, better come and pay me, better not be a dollar short
I done took the game, put it in a lock, I ain't even try
Lookin' like a lick, tryna play slick, nigga, you'll die
Comin' from the bricks, I ain't had shit, now the new Coupe 125
Yeah
Nobody got hit, spin the block again (yeah, yeah)
I done been too solid, somethin' got to give (ah, ah)
Rockin' real diamonds before I got the deal
Through the grace of God, we got away, so now we gotta chill
Yeah
Do it for my fam and my fans, f*ck how niggas feel
Told 'em it was my turn, I'm guessin' that the time's here
Skeleton my Cartier, makin' sure my time pure
If you were not here when we was thuggin', you can't come 'round here
Hard work, my grind real, I'm dedicated to get this paper
He okay, he been a hater, I don't know why he mad at me
I won't let the youngins take him off, and now he mad at me
He better be lucky that I ain't out here just bad rappin'
High speed, gettin' in low gear, streets taught me have no fear
I invested in the West, their niggas know I sold my dope there
Pretty pussy, no hair, she don't like when I put it in my song
So I can't go there, but she know I like to go there
Nobody got hit, spin the block again (yeah, yeah)
I done been too solid, somethin' got to give (yeah, yeah)
Rockin' real diamonds before I got the deal
Through the grace of God, we got away, so now we gotta chill
They thought it was rap cap and I told 'em that I got a mil'
You can get whatever if you ask me, you ain't gotta steal
My lil' woadie said he fightin' demons, feel like he gotta kill
And I just left the hood to catch a vibe and that shit give me chills
(What's happenin', Chi Chi?)
Writer: Chidi Steve Osondu, Dominique Jones, Hagan Jeffrey Lange
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave