YBN Cordae - Broke as Fck (Freestyle) Lyrics

was broke as f*ck, down up on my ass
Had the lowest luck, used to ride the bike up to the store
I need a Rover truck, a Bentley coupe
Yeah, I'm wearin' Prada, I like Fendi too
Grandma passed, had a heart attack, only 62
My cousin shot, got me paranoid, who to trust or not
Gave my brother twenty-five years, that really sucked a lot
Post-traumatic stress is building up, you niggas so dramatic
F*ck these other niggas, I'm the illest, I'm the coldest at it

Let me take you niggas back to a much simpler time
Picture yourself inside a vehicle, a ship in my mind
You'll see some childhood memories mixed with the cells of a don
You'll see the doctor smack my ass when I first fell out my mom
A 'Magic School Bus' adventure trip inside my cerebral
Back when I told niggas 'I'll make it, swear' they didn't believe him
Flashback to Brasstracks and we was playin', no problems
We was crankin' all the classics from the spring to the autumn
Then I said "Motherf*ck, need a bad bitch with a tummy tuck"
How I make a million from a dollar? It was dummy luck
Need a new Lamb', no sedan, f*ck a Hummer truck
I'm aiming for the top, I'm steady climbing, f*ck a runner-up

I was broke as f*ck, down up on my ass
Had the lowest luck, used to ride the bike up to the store
I need a Rover truck, a Bentley coupe
Yeah, I'm wearin' Prada, I like Fendi too
Grandma passed, had a heart attack, only 62
My cousin shot, got me paranoid, who to trust or not
Gave my brother twenty five years, that really sucked a lot
Post traumatic stress is building up, you niggas so dramatic
F*ck these other niggas, I'm the illest, I'm the coldest at it (Aye, uh-huh, yeah)

Mom and dad never had a damn thing, damn shame
Now I'm poppin' champagne on a private jet, f*ck an airplane
Order Bossa Nova, eating plantains
Presidential Rollie, f*ck a campaign
Impeach, nigga, ten deep, nigga
Remember days we was wearin' J's and a gold chain and only had three figures
So fortunate, proportionate, 'Lost Boy', nigga, no coordinates
Remember Christmas? We was giftless, three-foot tree, no ornaments
Pull my dick out, hoes swarmin' it, flow cold, nigga, no warmin' it
Mama couldn't afford AAU, so we couldn't hoop, nigga, no tournaments
I remember days sippin' lemonade
Ice cream truck gettin' plenty paid
Candy lady had Jolly Ranchers, I don't really have a lot of answers
I'm just searching for the same shit
Same niggas that I came with
Premonitions over reminiscing, Lamb' truck how I lane switch