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Vince Staples - Ramona Park Broke My Heart Album Lyrics



Vince Staples - Ramona Park Broke My Heart Lyrics






THE BEACH

Oh, yeah, everybody killa
Tryna make it to the top, we can't take everybody with us
We can't get everybody rich, we can't f*ck everybody bitches
I'm afraid to catch a case, I feel like everybody snitchin'
Cold sweats and the shivers, I be havin' premonitions
Growin' up, ain't have no license, 'less it said to check the engine
'Less we had to spark the wick, show somebody that we miss 'em
I will park a nigga shit, streets got dark and niggas quit, huh
Tell me where you from, I ain't heard of that
In the city, baby, your first rap can be a murder rap
I will let you hold it, but you gotta bring my burner back
One up in the top, I get to drop, you know I'm surfin' that
Send him up to heaven gates, now his mom is sellin' plates
Now his homies watchin' cars, 'cause he out here actin' hard
Please, don't try to get involved 'less you wanna prove it
'Cause my gangsters really movin', ho, don't cut 'em, niggas shootin', wait
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Thibault Antoine Dominguez, Vince Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




AYE! (FREE THE HOMIES)

Ah-ah
Ah-ah
Everybody over here's got so much hurt
Got so much anger they hoard
We done lost a gang of homeboys
A lot of people, a lot of my friends got hurt
Know we just got a lotta anger in here
So the first thing, we gon' snap at it

Trophy in the hood, ayy
Wish a nigga would, ayy
Got my weight up (my weight up)
Now I'm feeling good, ayy
Now a nigga on, ayy (feelin' on, tonight)
I done came a long way
If I had one wish
I'd free the homies

Shoot a nigga mama if she out while we slidin'
Go up in the house, cuh, this shit get violent
Better keep your mouth shut if we hear sirens
I'ma be on death row just like Suge Knight'nem
I stand ten toes, I'm not no buster
Seen him by the WinCo, worked on my jumper
Baby know I'm hotter than the city in the summer
'Fore I leave the house I gotta tell her that I love her, yeah
I don't know if I'ma make it home (never know)
These niggas ain't gangbangin', they just singin' songs
I done seen it all, bloodshot eyes
Broke my heart, then decided that I'm still outside
Took a loss, took a risk, now I'm back in the mix
Watch who you keepin' around when you wish
Money ain't make me, still thuggin' 'til the feds come take me
Mean muggin'

Trophy in the hood, ayy
Wish a nigga would, ayy
Got my weight up (my weight up)
Now I'm feeling good, ayy
Now a nigga on, ayy (feelin' on, tonight)
I done came a long way
If I had one wish
I'd free the homies

Foot up on the gas, hunnid on the dash (on the gas)
Lowerin' the stats, thirty on the man (on the man)
Hung on Cherry Ave, I ain't go to class (no way)
They don't say, "Wassup," 'cause they know it's that (dead homies)
In too deep, I ain't with the peace
Wanna end the beef? Tell them niggas, "Bring my homies back" (dead homies)
Free the killer, he was on attack, yeah (free the hood)
Bitches wanna know my zodiac (ayy, ayy)
Every time I fall in love, baby, do me bad (bad)
Givin' up when I went and gave it all I had
I would never chase the cat, rather chase a bag
Have fun, life short while you livin' fast (Have fun)
I'm a nigga in the set, baby, go and ask (I'm a nigga in my section)
Never go outside, give the boys my last (uh-huh)
If I die today, they gon' go and crash (ayy, yeah)
That's on Tiny Scrap, that's on Lil Half (dead homies)

Trophy in the hood, ayy
Wish a nigga would, ayy
Got my weight up (my weight up)
Now I'm feeling good, ayy
Now a nigga on, ayy (feelin' on, tonight)
I done came a long way
If I had one wish
I'd free the homies (ayy)

Ah-ah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Leken Taylor, Sean Ryu Matsukawa, Vincent Staples, Zachary Deem Sekoff
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Downtown Music Publishing, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




DJ QUIK

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense
So don't kill game, let the pimpin'

I ain't never quitting on my homies from the set
Rather die a legend than be living with regrets
Granny up in Heaven, know she watch a nigga back
G-class flying down Orizaba Ave
I know that you love me but you gotta give me space
Money hungry women do whatever for a taste
All my people in the hood, what it's finna take
To have everybody living good? I don't wanna wait
In a minute, I'ma bust a juug, I'ma make a play
Hit the homie up and hit a lick, run in where you stay
All the pressure I be dealing with still ain't never change
I'm about the money, I ain't f*cking with the fame

DJ Quik (get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
If it don't make dollars (get paid, young nigga, get paid)
Then it don't make sense (get paid, young nigga, get paid)
DJ Quik (get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
If it don't make dollars (get paid, young nigga, get paid)
Then it don't make sense (get paid, young nigga, get paid)

You should see the limit on my Amex
One phone call and it's niggas at your address
I'm gon' ball 'til I'm sitting in a grave
F*ck all y'all, bet Ramona get the last laugh
Close your mouth when you talking to a killer, bitch
They say I murdered cuh, I say I'm innocent
This ain't suburbia, these niggas ignorant
I always get my man, I only miss my bitch
Yeah, hit me up if you wish
I'm in the studio, couple guns, couple Crips
Tryna make a hundred Ms, what's a couple bands?
Keep it coming in, keep it coming in

DJ Quik (get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
If it don't make dollars (get paid, young nigga, get paid)
Then it don't make sense (get paid, young nigga, get paid)
DJ Quik (get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
If it don't make dollars (get paid, young nigga, get paid)
Then it don't make sense (get paid, young nigga, get paid)

(Get paid, get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
(Get paid, young nigga, get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
Nigga that you know that's been down for years
I've clowned for years, and y'all could never fade my peers
One, two, three, four, five
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: John M. Sims, Cooper Douglas McGill, Dacoury Dahi Natche, David Marvin Blake, Dewey Wilson, Dylan Ismael Teixeira, Earl E. Washington, Luther Cook, R. Brooks, R. Smith, Vincent Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




MAGIC

(Mustard on the beat, ho)

Feeling like I'm floating to the ceiling, is it magic?
Baby, tell me why you disappearin', this is magic
I won't ever tell 'em how I did it, it was magic
Can you imagine?
Money in the mattress, love the way I stack it
I can make it rain blue hundreds, can you catch it?
If somebody come through bluffin' I'ma blast 'em
And tell the police I don't know what happened

If I gave a f*ck about a citch (huh?), I'd always be broke (always be broke)
I'd never get to pull up in a Benz with my locs (nah)
Growin' up, we was poor, so we hopped off that porch (so we hopped off the)
With a gun, tryna blow, tryna kick down your door (tryna kick down your)
But that's old news, spreading love now (spreading love)
Sick of police lights, sick of gun sounds (on the hood)
Niggas' bread ain't up, so they come foul (on the hood)
But it's handshakes, hugs when I come 'round (yeah)
Wow, funny style, hate to see a nigga smilin' (yeah)
Hundred miles and runnin' through the public housin' (yeah, yeah)
Movin' mountains, f*ck who I was stumpin' down with (uh-huh)
Gunnin' down shit, sittin' in the back of Crown Vics
So janky (Norf gang)
Know them niggas down the street still hate me (I know you hate me)
Hope lil' baby know that she can't play me (yeah, yeah)
Dumb ho, love cost but the game free, dumb ho (stupid)

Feeling like I'm floating to the ceiling, is it magic?
Baby, tell me why you disappearin', this is magic
I won't ever tell 'em how I did it, it was magic (Norf)
Can you imagine?
Money in the mattress, love the way I stack it
I can make it rain blue hundreds, can you catch it? (Huh?)
If somebody come through bluffin', I'ma blast 'em (yeah, damn)
And tell the police I don't know what happened (yeah)

Crip and blood shit (Northside)
That's the only thing I ever been in love with it (Northside)
So I hope he know we never goin' public (no love)
Hands full so I can't hold grudges, nah (run it up)
I be thuggin', jumpin' out the backseat bustin' (run it up, air it out))
Everybody we be beefin' with be sayin' that they bleedin' shit (on the hood)
But see us and they don't do nothin' (yeah, yeah, air 'em out)
Ah, put it on the dead locs (dead homies)
They know I been 'bout it,'bout it since the get-go (dead homies)
If I hit the corner quick and better get low (dead homies)
You ain't with it, nigga, what you from the set for?
Uh, I just wanna be successful (yeah, yeah)
You won't never ever see me with my head low (uh-uh)
Momma met my daddy, then they had me in the ghetto (in the hood)
Handed me a .38 and told me I was special, Norf (yes, I am)

Feeling like I'm floating to the ceiling, is it magic? (Yeah)
Baby, tell me why you disappearin', this is magic (yeah)
I won't ever tell 'em how I did it, it was magic
Can you imagine?
Money in the mattress, love the way I stack it
I can make it rain blue hundreds, can you catch it? (Huh?)
If somebody come through bluffin', I'ma blast 'em (yeah, bam)
And tell the police I don't know what happened

Feeling like I'm floating to the ceiling, is it magic?
Baby, tell me why you disappearin', this is magic
I won't ever tell 'em how I did it, it was magic
Can you imagine?
Money in the mattress, love the way I stack it
I can make it rain blue hundreds, can you catch it?
If somebody come through bluffin', I'ma blast 'em
And tell the police I don't know what happened

See when you come from nothing
Make it into something, I call that luck
But when you come from where we come from, I call that magic
And when you get two niggas from different sides of the city
To do something like this, I guess you could call that magic
Getting off of Section 8, welfare
Now it's Rolls Royces, private jets, that's magic
Let me know what's magic to you, yeah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dexter Wansel, Dijon McFarlane, Jacob Wilkinson-Smith, Lewis Hughes, Nicholas Audino, Theodore Life, Vincent Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc., EMPIRE PUBLISHING




NAMELESS

"I think it's wrong, but then it's called survival
You have to eat, you have to pay bills
You have to survive
So when you get used to pulling a trigger on somebody
It's not hard to pick up a gun and just shoot
You know? It's not hard after a while
It becomes easy, common
And depending on the people that you're shooting at
And the reason for you doing it
It might even be fun"

"You shot someone?"

"That's what they said
Several times, that's what they said"

"Were they right?"

"I don't know
Bullets don't have names"
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dylan Wiggins, Grecia Alfaro, Vincent Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




WHEN SPARKS FLY

It's been two years, I keep calling
I'm standing here and I ain't got you
As we lay here, lovers in arms
I can feel your fear, can this love be true?
Come on, lift me up, love, I keep falling
I'm losing faith 'cause you keep stalling
Lift me up, love, I keep falling
I'm losing faith 'cause you keep stalling

She said, "Baby, keep me closely"
Love it when you hold me
Know that I'm a real one, I don't do no ghostin'
I know that you love me, you don't gotta show me
Off to the world, please, hide me from the police
Everywhere you go, we together, inseparable
You know I'm down for whatever, protective of you
I don't wanna use protection with you
But the glove'll keep you safe if you ever get loose
Never put you in a jam, hold whatever for you
When you first shot your shot, I knew you would the one to hit the spot
Only you can make it clap for the homies I am not
On the late nights, me and you, circling the block
Tryna make it pop
Put that pussy nigga 'cross the street from Cherry Park
Hope we don't get caught
Don't you break my heart
Love how you illuminate my thoughts

It's been two years, I keep calling
I'm standing here and I ain't got you
As we lay here, lovers in arms
I can feel your fear, can this love be true?
Come on, lift me up, love, I keep falling
I'm losing faith 'cause you keep stalling
Lift me up, love, I keep falling
I'm losing faith 'cause you keep stalling

Damn, can't believe they took you from me
Kickin' in your front door, lookin' for me
Hit me in our secret place
Nothing I could do for you but sit and wait
Contemplate
Did we leave a trail? Did we make mistakes?
Can't drop on your bail, can't check on your case
Know that you won't tell, that's why I'm afraid
You'll probably never get to see the light of day
I'm ashamed to say I think I hate you now
We shoulda took 'em on a chase 'cause I can't save you now
At least give me a chance to try to lay 'em down
Is you trippin'? You forgettin' now we made these vows?
Still here I am, waiting 'round
Dreaming that you comin' home, right your wrongs, take me out
I can't wait until you bust it down
Probably go a hunnid rounds

I keep calling
I keep calling (oh, ooh)
I keep calling
I keep calling
I keep calling (oh, ooh)
I keep calling

"We got together, we got in a lil' somethin'
But he's in jail right now
For something that he had no business in doin'"

"What did he do?"

"They said he killed somebody"
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Atupele Ndisale, Francesca Gina Bergami, Frano Huett, Shahrooz Raoofi, Vincent Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




EAST POINT PRAYER

Money mantra
Hundred racks plus, duffle bag stuffed
Better not slip, I'ma crash ya
You ain't shot shit, get your stats up
Kept it stitch lipped, I'm a factor
I was out there when it mattered
Had the chopstick with the ladder
Made it count, fled to Atlanta

Off of Camp Creek, with no Plan C
I was head first, understand me?
Gotta stay alert, understand me?
If they catch me, they gon' blast me

Yeah, bounce out, chunkin' up the hood
Money in the bank, so I'm feeling good
Pull up on the gang, never Hollywood
Showing them the way, so they show a nigga love, but
These lil' niggas running wild
Bought a .40 cal, out the Jordan Downs
Married to the streets, don't she get around?
I never wanna leave, I'm never out of bounds, yeah
Ain't no peacing up if you body one of us
Body for a body, big body Benz truck
Bounce out boogie, right pussy, get f*cked
When these niggas get tough?
Since when these niggas want war with us?
Lick a gunshot, bloodshot corneas
I been out all night tryna make it out
Swear to God that the set was the safest route
Know what they about

Money mantra
Hundred racks plus, duffle bag stuffed
Better not slip, I'ma crash ya
You ain't shot shit, get your stats up
Kept it stitch-lipped, I'm a factor
I was out there when it mattered
Had the chopstick with the ladder
Made it count, fled to Atlanta

I took big risks, now I want big fish
A billion dollars at the top of my to-do list
Buy a villa in St. Bart's, maybe a cruise ship
Or really a yacht
Just to say that I got it, product of my environment
Keep my cutter for the snakes, you know this shit can get slimy
Ain't have to make no call to gang, them they already beside me
Where the money at? That's more than likely where you can find me
I can't honor that, you know that shit was flawed when you tried it
This shit crazy, nobody want to put in no work
But want to get paid, though
I'ma keep on spinning on lawyers until the case closed
I'm probably not coming up, not the one you should wait on
I want this shit back, hope it don't take long
Everybody called me with their problems, now they check on me
They say if it happened, then it's meant to be, guess we'll see
I know you was lying when you had told me you would never leave
I can't keep on going back and forth, I gotta let it be

(Money, mansion, hundred racks plus, duffle bag stuffed)
(Better not slip, I'ma crash, yeah)
(You ain't shot shit, get your stats up)
(Kept the sticks lit, I'm a factor)
(I was out there, when it mattered)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dominique Jones, Jacob Elliot Reske, Kenneth Charles III Blume, Michael Nise, Vincent Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




SLIDE

I just came up this way right here
When I was walkin' into the yard (slide)
And, um, they just opened up
Honest, there's no other way to put it
They just drove up like this (slide)
Slowed down a little, and paow, paow, paow (yeah)

Made 'em proud but never made a million (yeah)
I'm talking net, I heart the set, I'm tryna raise the children
From the Naughty where we ain't pretending
Made a lot of niggas die but I ain't admitting, damn
Ain't forgetting, can't forgive 'em
Preying on 'em, no, it ain't religion
Sick of niggas, no, it ain't remission
With it even though I hate the killings
Rather point it at the crackers, FN with the ladder

Slide
Slide, slide, slide, slide (beggin' on 'em)
Slide, slide, slide, slide (beggin' on 'em)
Slide, slide, slide, slide (beggin' on 'em)
Slide

I love my momma 'cause she did her best
I feel nirvana when I'm in the set
We see who pop it on the internet
Catch one, it's a bet
It's a wrap, hit his lungs if he run
Hit his back, if he crawl hit his hat
Out here living raps (uh, yeah)

Slide
Slide, slide, slide, slide (beggin' on 'em)
Slide, slide, slide, slide (beggin' on 'em)
Slide, slide, slide, slide (beggin' on 'em)
Slide

Late night, who rides
Grey slides, suits, ties
Slide
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Hebrew Malachi Richardson, Leken Taylor, Mike Ryan Hector, Vincent Staples, Zachary Deem Sekoff
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Downtown Music Publishing, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




PAPERCUTS

Bang, cookin' up love, always on the run
Bang, cookin' up love, always on the run

They wanna know if I'm in the street
Or if I still feel a way about the enemies
f I went and died today, who'd remember me?
Just keep it real with me, I don't need no sympathy
I hate this industry, missin' sleep, been some weeks
Countin' money up while they countin' sheep
Used to picture me rollin', vividly
Now everything I dream is everything you see
Ridin' with the blick, thirty shots at least
Keep it in my reach right up on the seat
I try to teach but then these niggas think he tryna preach
And I ain't got no time for nobody out here tryin' me

Ri-ridin' 'round the city, say what's up
Don't be playin' with my money (don't be playin'), don't be playin' with the hood
Papercuts, papercuts, out here tryna run it up
If it ain't 'bout bread (yeah), I don't give a f*ck (ayy)
See me 'round the city, say what's up
Don't be playin' with my money (don't be playin'), don't be playin' with the hood
Papercuts, papercuts, out here tryna run it up (yeah)
If it ain't 'bout bread, I don't give a f*ck, no

We don't wanna hear that bullshit Shareef
Ain't no love, ain't no peace when you broke in these streets
And they never love you back but you don't know until you leave
Always lookin' for a bag, never had the time to grieve
Hit my line, but make it brief if you ain't talkin' dollars
Wild calls from my dawgs, hope they free my partners
Still thinkin' every day about the one that got away, ayy
You know I'm crazy 'bout you, right?
I want a wife, don't want no baby mama, nah
These crazy bitches try to tap your pockets, yeah
Now I ain't trippin', I'm just bein' honest, yeah
I love my direct deposit

Ri-ridin' 'round the city, say what's up
Don't be playin' with my money (don't be playin'), don't be playin' with the hood
Papercuts, papercuts, out here tryna run it up
If it ain't 'bout bread (yeah), I don't give a f*ck (ayy)
See me 'round the city, say what's up
Don't be playin' with my money (don't be playin'), don't be playin' with the hood
Papercuts, papercuts, out here tryna run it up (yeah)
If it ain't 'bout bread, I don't give a f*ck, no

I'm what you're waitin' for (yeah, what you waitin' for?)
I'm what you're waitin' for (what you waitin' for? Yeah, what you waitin' for?)
I'm what you're waitin' for (yeah, what you waitin' for?)
I'm what you're waitin' for (what you waitin' for? Yeah)
Bang, cookin' up love (see me ridin' 'round the city, say what's up)
Always on the run (don't be playin' with my money, don't be playin' with the hood)
Bang, cookin' up love (papercuts, papercuts, out here tryna run it up)
Always on the run (if it ain't 'bout bread)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dacoury Dahi Natche, Paul Raini Castelluzzo, Vince Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




LEMONADE

Feelin' like ice cold lemonade (lemonade)
Nowhere to go, we in the shade (in the shade)
Nowhere to go, we in a cage
Sometimes life tastes bittersweet
Feelin' like ice cold lemonade (lemonade)
Nowhere to go, we in the shade (in the shade)
Nowhere to go, we in a cage
Sometimes life tastes bittersweet

Yeah, money talks, broke niggas talk louder (yeah)
That's why they face so sour (yeah)
Ain't shit sweet, ask Suga Free (ayy, Suga Free)
Still bust a nigga head, it's the hood in me (ayy)
From the ghetto, by the beach, bullets in the breeze (from the hood)
I got million dollar dreams, I got nigga needs (I'm the hood)
Baby, from around the way, so she feelin' me (Yeah)
Wanna get with me, make a memory (Yeah)
Think she tryna set me up
She send a late night text sayin', "Let's meet up" (hell no)
No way, I heard you kick it with the enemies (no way)
And if a nigga think I'm slippin' then he gettin' wings
XD, 4-O with the lemon squeeze (bang)
Hold seventeen, clutch it, I'ma air the scene
Sweet dreams (Yeah)
Trippin' on everything (On the hood)
Really with it, so you better be, ayy (yeah)

Feelin' like ice cold lemonade (lemonade)
Nowhere to go, we in the shade (in the shade)
Nowhere to go, we in a cage
Sometimes life tastes bittersweet
Feelin' like ice cold lemonade (lemonade)
Nowhere to go, we in the shade (in the shade)
Nowhere to go, we in a cage
Sometimes life tastes bittersweet (hey, tell 'em where you from)

I come from where everybody thirsty (thirsty)
Got some money, now these niggas wanna hurt me (tell me why?)
How another nigga gettin' to it get you mad? (ayy, get a bag)
You should go and get some Ms 'fore I get you crashed
Really livin' fast, die young by the gun
We don't wanna know your name, tell us where you from (hey, tell me where you from?)
I done ran it up a M, but it's not enough (yeah, homie)
Used to kick it in they hood 'til we shot it up (yeah, homie)
Ayy, it's no friends in the gangland (no friends)
Started with a skateboard and a spray can
Pull up on they main block, goin' Rain Man (bah)
Money talks, Crips walk, niggas ain't playin'
Heavy steppin' if I wanna get to Heaven
I'ma have to hit the gate, did too many 211s
Tryna break that bank like ScHoolboy said
Won't stop 'til the whole hood fed
On my granny grave (Yeah, yeah)

Feelin' like ice cold lemonade (lemonade)
Nowhere to go, we in the shade (in the shade)
Nowhere to go, we in a cage
Sometimes life tastes bittersweet
Feelin' like ice cold lemonade (lemonade)
Nowhere to go, we in the shade (in the shade)
Nowhere to go, we in a cage
Sometimes life tastes bittersweet

Ice cold, baby, ice cold
They think I'm pimpin', baby
Summertime in the L-B
Oh, what a feelin', baby
Bittersweet, yeah, ooh-ooh, oh-oh, oh, oh
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah

Summertime in the shade (lemonade)
Ice cold lemonade
Summertime in the shade
Feelin' like, feelin' like
Ice cold lemonade, yeah
Summertime in the shade
Ice cold lemonade
Feelin' like, feelin' like
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dashawn White, Joseph Ramirez, Joseph John Charles, Justin Garner, Kevin Richard Beggs, Leken Taylor, Thomas Solis, Tyrone Griffin, Vince Staples, Yori Smith
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Cloud9, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




PLAYERS WAY

Ayy, I keep it funky with the bitches, I got player ways
Can't fall asleep after I hit, I gotta stay awake
I buss it down, she want the rounds, I gotta take a break
My conscience blinded, I be tryna f*ck the pain away
I have no time to wine and dine, I gotta run the streets
Every woman I done f*cked with been in love with me
She don't want nothing but a little company
Until the sun is up and that's enough for me

I knew that you would never be mine
I knew that you was just one call away from pressing decline
I knew that time was of the essence, no it never rewinds
You know the press is full of lies, so why you pressing your line?
I know it eats you up inside to have to tell me the truth
Ain't no way you think I think she love me better than you
I think that nigga you be talking to be doing too much
You wipe your tears in front the mirror, now you thinking 'bout us
Please don't worry 'bout it, baby girl, I'm not in a rush
He won't ever get too crazy, girl, that boy know what's up
You know who to trust, I'ma be there long as I breathe air
And if I die, I'll keep you smiling from the sky

Ayy, I keep it funky with the bitches, I got player ways
Can't fall asleep after I hit, I gotta stay awake
I buss it down, she want the rounds, I gotta take a break
My conscience blinded, I be tryna f*ck the pain away

I have no time to wine and dine, I gotta run the streets
Every woman I done f*cked with been in love with me
She don't want nothing but a little company
Until the sun is up, and that's enough for me

I don't know that girl and if I do, it's not like that
And if I did, it was a while ago, before you took me back
You always focused on the past, when I be all about that ass
When I be all up in them guts, you know you love to throw it back
You know I live for you and me, I know sometimes it's hard to see
I know I complicated things, I know you scared to say the least
But c'est la vie, estarè aqui
Namaste, nah mean?
These hoes don't mean a thing

Ayy, I keep it funky with the bitches, I got player ways
Can't fall asleep after I hit, I gotta stay awake
I buss it down, she want the rounds, I gotta take a break
My conscience blinded, I be tryna f*ck the pain away

I have no time to wine and dine, I gotta run the streets
Every woman I done f*cked with been in love with me
She don't want nothing but a little company
Until the sun is up, and that's enough for me

When I was like in sixth grade
I was ditching with gangster guys and then I started dressing like that
Getting my tattoos, leaving home
He wanted money, "I'll go, I'll get it for you"
He's all like, "How you gon' get it?" That's how I got the money
I was like, so in love with him that anything he said, I did
He started giving me letters every day, and I would be like
"Oh, he loves me, he loves me"
Even though I knew, you know, he was lying
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Corrine Bailey Rae, Dylan Ismael Teixiera, Jonas Koch, Levi Miucci, Mino Drerup, Vince Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




MAMAS BOY

Yeah, yeah, on my mama
Yeah, this one goes out to all the baby mama's mama's mamas
On my mama (yeah)
Mama's mama (uh-huh), on my mama (yeah)
Baby mama's mama, on my mama, mama (on my)
On my mama (boom)

You ain't gettin' blue strips, what?
You ain't ever shoot shit, what? (Say what?)
Went into the precinct, cuh, told them who did what
Niggas be way too tough (tough), finna call your bluff, pick up
Hoe rep, she smut, mouth runnin', you an athlete, huh?
Gotta chase that bag (bag), can't let it pass me up (no way)
Keep one tucked, the opps don't play
Been way more beef since I got paid
I ride 'round town with Ray Charles tint
The police search, they won't find shit
I'm way too rich for sleepless nights
The beef on sight and I won't miss

(On my mama) yeah, I love this shit like my mama
(On my mama, yeah) I love this shit like my mama
(On my mama) I love this shit like my mama (yeah)
Live for the money and die for the dollars (die for the dollars)
Home of the killers and flockers (flockers)
(On my mama) I love shit like my mama

Michelin stars (yeah), we gotta eat, soon as he Tweet
Sent to the Lord (bang), land of the beast, runnin' the streets (runnin' the streets)
Glory to God (thank God), answered my mama in prayers
I got my weight up, workin' my way up
Now I don't go 'less they pay us
Money ain't everything (nah, it's not)
But I promise, it help the pain (on God)
I just paid for a body and got the receipt, baby, let's celebrate (dead homies)
Makin' money, makin' moves (yeah, yeah)
Channel 7, breakin' news (yeah, yeah)
Competition, what you on, run up on me, I'ma (boom, boom)

(On my mama) I love this shit like my mama
(On my mama, yeah) I love this shit like my mama
(On my mama) I love this shit like my mama (yeah)
Live for the money and die for the dollars (die for the dollars)
Home of the killers and flockers (flockers)
(On my mama) I love this shit like my mama

On my mama (dead homies)
On my mama (on my mama, nigga, run down)
On my mama (just like my mama gunned down)
On my mama (just like my mama)
Yeah, on my mama (mama)
Yeah, on my mama (niggas talkin' 'bout all that like)
Put this on my mama (dead homies, nigga)
Put it on my mama

I'd like to think that
Had I not to had to work three jobs, two jobs
I could've spent a little more time
And maybe he would not have become a monster
Dead homies
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Cooper Douglas McGill, Dylan Ismael Teixeira, Vincent Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




BANG THAT

Find me by the water, I can bang now
All about a dollar, I can bang that, yeah
Ridin' for my partnas, I can bang that
I do what I wanna, I can bang that, yeah
(Mustard on the beat, ho)
Slidin' with a chopper in a Maybach
If you want a problem, nigga, say that, yeah
Catch 'em, I'mma kill 'em, I can bang now
F*ck 'em, won't forgive 'em, I can bang that, yeah

Mama had me where it never rain at (we in the hood)
Playin' with them weapons where the waves crash (we in the hood)
Runnin' up a check, I'm tryna chase racks (hey, them racks look good)
Sendin' opps to heaven, tell 'em stay mad (hey, man, what niggas talkin' 'bout)
Say you not in love, set him up then (you not in love)
Soon as lil' homie learn the ropes, he getting jumped in (I'm in the what?)
Ain't no dancin' on me in the party, I'm the gunman (you know what's up)
Fourteen, shooting up the function (yeah, yeah)

Find me by the water, I can bang now
All about a dollar, I can bang that, yeah
Ridin' for my partnas, I can bang that
I do what I wanna, I can bang that, yeah
Slidin' with a chopper in a Maybach
If you want a problem, nigga, say that, yeah
Catch 'em, I'mma kill 'em, I can bang now
F*ck 'em, won't forgive 'em, I can bang that, yeah

Same Loc since way back (I know you know when, 68th street)
My granny Caddie had the four flats (on the dead homies)
Stay woke, yeah, stay strapped (I'll watch y'all niggas)
Hang obituaries, I don't hang plaques (yeah)
Play hoes, hate rats
You know them crackers want the gang trapped
Thuggin' with the same cats
Stole the fork up out the road and made the 'caine crack

Find me by the water, I can bang now
All about a dollar, I can bang that, yeah
Ridin' for my partnas, I can bang that
I do what I wanna, I can bang that, yeah
Slidin' with a chopper in a Maybach
If you want a problem, nigga, say that, yeah
Catch 'em, I'mma kill 'em, I can bang now
F*ck 'em, won't forgive em, I can bang that, yeah

Put on the set like it's tailored for me
Got in the game and I gave it for free
Shells on the ground 'cause we playing for keeps
If I go down, will you save it for me?

I love the money, she more than a friend
Never forget how the story began
Real as they come, I don't gotta pretend
Live by the gun, die by the sand

Find me by the water, I can bang now
All about a dollar, I can bang that, yeah
Ridin' for my partnas, I can bang that
I do what I wanna, I can bang that, yeah
Slidin' with a chopper in a Maybach
If you want a problem, nigga, say that, yeah
Catch 'em, I'mma kill 'em, I can bang now
F*ck 'em, won't forgive em, I can bang that, yeah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dijon Isaiah McFarlane, John Earl Julian, Ronald Nathan Latour, Vincent Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




THE SPIRIT OF MONSTER KODY

First what they want to know
Did you really write this book?
How could an uneducated motherf*cker
Droppin' out the 6th grade
Go to prison?

We have set you up for failure
Period
You do not breed
Period
You gon' go to prison, juvenile hall, camp
Youth authority, prison
You gon' join a prison gang
You're gonna either get stabbed or you're gonna stab people
You're gonna spend the rest of your f*ckin' life in solitary confinement

You are finished, Kody Scott

And I said, nah
F*ck no
Hell nah
I ain't finished, yo
Got a spirit of a thug in me
And not just no regular ordinary thug, I'm more like Cinqué
Motherf*ckers rebellin' against the system

And that's thug shit
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Mino Drerup, Thomas Westly Lumpkins, Vincent Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




ROSE STREET

Yeah
I don't sing no love songs, no
I never sang no love songs, no
Yeah, ayy

Baby, how you got that little bitch gettin' you mad
Got some shit you gotta deal with, pimp in my past
Hate the bitch who hit the killswitch when it get bad
Figure skating, takin' field trips, flippin' them racks
On the back street, ten times ten on the dash
All gas no brakes 'cause I'm livin' like that
Came up outta every case with my crippin' intact
She be lying to my face so I hit from the back
Let a real nigga know if you a house wife or a ho
Picked the blacker berry, I ain't dealing with the snow
We ain't gettin' married, girl, I'm gettin' to the door
RPGO (yeah), yeah

She said she in love, what's that?
Trust, what's that?
Us, what's that? Yeah (you know the deal)
I'm married to the gang, don't be playing games (yeah)
Only bringing flowers to the homie's grave (yeah)
She said she in love, what's that? (Love)
Trust, what's that? (Love)
Us, what's that? Yeah (yeah)
I'm married to the money, don't be playing games (yeah, it's 'bout the money)
Only bringing flowers to the homie's grave (what's that? Graves, yeah)

Red Ferrari seats, all my homies bled out on these streets
Makeup on my sheets, make up sex stress, hope she leave
Reaching for my keys, she like, "Where you going? Stay with me"
Hate to see her beg (beg), she don't want me dead (dead)
Posted on the block, when it's war, ain't no warning shots
Bullet hit his top, all his homies ran, his body dropped
You can't have my heart but I promise you'll be in my thoughts
We don't go on dates unless I bring what keep me safe
I promise you, you don't gotta stress, it's gon' be okay, yeah
Okay, I'm lying, living day by day
Just don't waste my time, is you here to stay?
Don't pay attention to the shit you hear 'em say, man
Can't press rewind, life is like the movies, baby
Pray you don't use me, baby
Pray they don't shoot me, baby
Only way you'll lose me I been feeling loopy lately
I keep it on me, I don't use the safety, nah

She said she in love, what's that?
Trust, what's that?
Us, what's that? Yeah (you know the deal)
I'm married to the gang, don't be playing games (yeah)
Only bringing flowers to the homie's grave (yeah)
She said she in love, what's that? (Love)
Trust, what's that? (Love)
Us, what's that? Yeah (yeah)
I'm married to the money, don't be playing games (yeah, it's 'bout the money)
Only bringing flowers to the homie's grave (yeah, what's that? Graves)

What's that? (Dead homies)
What's that? (Dead homies) (yeah, yeah)
Ayy, ayy, I need y'all to turn this up real quick
What's that? (Yeah, yeah)
What's that? (Yeah, yeah)
I'm only bringing flowers to the homies' graves
Yeah

I don't sing no love songs, no
Ain't never sang no love songs, no
Long Beach Flowers, what you want?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Mino Drerup, Thomas Wesley Lumpkins, Vince Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




THE BLUES

If I die on the way to give you my love
Please, protect me from the world
Forgive me for what I've done
This shit harder than I make it look, what have I become?
I ain't never been no open book
Money made me numb

Money made me numb, money made me numb
Money made me numb, money made me numb
Money made me numb, money made me numb
Money made me numb, money made me numb

Street life'll trap you
But my daddy wasn't born a pastor
Need greener pastures
Still waitin' on the rapture
I'm never lonely
Even my daydreams is haunted
I keep gettin' smaller houses but I won't find peace 'til the Lord allows it

Waiting 'til the Lord allows it
Waiting 'til the Lord allows it
Waiting 'til the Lord allows it
Waiting 'til the Lord allows it
Waiting 'til the Lord allows it
Waiting 'til the Lord allows it
Waiting 'til the Lord allows it
Waiting 'til the Lord allows it

What's success but guilt and stress?
Ain't too many niggas had to live with that
Movin' on from what you love
Knowin' you won't never get them feelings back
Heart broke but your ego's still intact
Dark soul, been this Black
If I reap what I sow, that'd be so astoundin'
No yellow brick road, just public housing
Can you please come post my bail?
It's a hunnid thousand
Know you say you wish me well
But I really doubt it
Who really 'bout it?
Can't wait to see
And if I don't come home tonight
Just pray for me

Pray for me, pray for me
Pray for me, pray for me
Pray for me, pray for me
Pray for me, pray for me
Pray for me, pray for me
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Thibault Antoine Dominguez, Vince Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Ramona Park Broke My Heart (stylized in all caps) is the fifth studio album by American rapper Vince Staples, released April 8, 2022, through Motown Records and Blacksmith Records.

The album was executive produced by Corey "Blacksmith" Smyth, Ethiopia Habtemariam, Michael Uzowuru, and Vince Staples himself.
Performed By: Vince Staples
Genre(s): hip hop, West Coast hip hop
Producer(s): Brazzen, Coop the Truth, DJ Dahi, Frano, Johnny Juliano, Jonas, Kenny Beats, LBambino, LeKen Taylor, Mike Hector, Mingo, Mustard, Nami, Paul Castelluzzo, Reske, Saint Mino, Tommy Parker, Yori, Zack Sekoff
Released: April 8th, 2022
Year: 2022

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