[Verse 1: Matt Champion] When there's a rough patch, don't eyefuck the parachute They goin' AWOL the second that the light goes on This a treat ain't it, so initiate the powder room I pull it back and check my rosie, and yeah, I'm bout to bloom It's that ninety raised from hell shit, parlay like when the lane switch Combat how you feel, strobe light, hit the killswitch Neck twist like Exorcist, I'ma see you 'round 'Cause tonight's the night I'm losin' all I'm doin', I'm about this
[Chorus: Joba] White cuffs, wood grain Money in the suitcase on my way to the bank White cuffs, wood grain Money in the suitcase on my way to the bank On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank On my way to the bank, bank, bank, suitcase On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank On my way to the bank
[Verse 2: Joba] 'Til the casket drops, I will play God Fuck the world, let's start a riot, got too much too quick God damn, I'm feeling sick, bitch, call the doctor Don't act like I ain't been dead to ya Don't act like I ain't deserve this shit Couldn't last a day inside my head That's why I did the drugs I did Got issues with these motherfuckers Looking down from they pedestals On that petty view, on that petty shit Pray for peace with a knife in my hand Speak my piece like a gun to my head Come equipped just to blast this shit Misunderstood since birth Fuck what you think, and fuck what you heard I feel betrayed, you can keep the praise And all of the fuck shit, need to get away Still ain't got the fright to the fickle-minded people I thought I knew better, wish I knew better Should have known better, wish that I was better At dealing with the fame and you fake motherfuckers Guess I'm too real
[Interlude] Excuse we, let me pass, let me see your ass We ain't playin' nice, little guy Now let me, let me run mah t—
[Verse 3: Merlyn Wood] I be in my bag, (excuse we) goin' in (let me pass) Guess who isn't built for this, man? Me and my thugs built for this, man We goin' for the gifts and the grams I be in my bag, (excuse we) goin' in (let me pass) Smokin' all the grams in this bag, man, you isn't built for this, man Run it like a gingerbread man, fuck that shit, stay hydrated nigga I'ma let that bitch go home, kiss my momma, wassup? Wassup? Black power fist hangin' from my black 'fro Yo, she saw me in that cereal, she want to lick a Oreo, damn Break the dam when I spit the flow I'm on the Lam', not the fuckin' wolf Hoppin' out the van, I'm on Abbey Road Fans with cameras in the bathroom, man that's difficult I just wanna smoke a Backwoods by my lonely self Chill, watch numbers go up, book off the shelf I found myself and put my face on a missing shirt I dropped out with no promise that this shit would (That this shit would work, work, work Work, work, work, work, work) (Work, work, work, work, work, work, work)
[Bridge: bearface] With the dogs, in my ride know the doors suicide Paranoid, do or die, you should know we never lie With the dogs, in my ride, know the doors suicide Paranoid, do or die, you should know we never lie Pull up with the racks to your shop Cop a medallion or 3 i'm the don Zim zim zim out the bim get shot One mill, two mill, three, that's a lot, damn
[Chorus: Joba] White cuffs, wood grain Money in the suitcase on my way to the bank White cuffs, wood grain Money in the suitcase on my way to the bank On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank On my way to the bank, bank, bank, suitcase On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank On my way to the bank, bank, bankTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
