[Verse 1: King ISO] Rap been working, that is certain Tracks I'm merking, cash disperssion on the daily Imagine working back is hurting rap's your purpose Lack the urge but you're amazing Does that determine cash, deserve it Back to serving at the nursing home to pay me I snatch my shirt off, I had to work in the trash and sort it Now back to verses (Boy you're crazy!) I know it may seem back a worse kid The more I think about it, yo it's actually perfect 'Cause I don't really see myself having worth in a job I'm mad at 'cause that is worthless So I pick up another pen and pad and purses Plus I'm a producer I practice per kit I had it mastered, I was that determined My drive was massive before I had a permit Hair was nappy I had to perm it Pants saggin' like niggas had the word flipped I could have been a stat like thermos Instead I push the needle like the thermostat and had you burning They used to point and laugh when I rapped at first and I snuck in shows and body bagged their verses Now I trek with the stars on some Captain Kirk shit And they all on my team from the back like Hermit And that barely scratched the surface Homeless, jail, to war back to back plus Searching for a break fast 9-to-5 can't take that In other words, fuck flipping flapjacks at Perkins J's on, Levis', snapback, my shirt crisp I'm going on tour with a bag of merch prints My dreams came true and I just had to work with I had and honestly I'm glad it's working because...
[Hook: King ISO] I'm a boss I ain't working for nobody B.Y.O.B I'm getting faded finna have a celebration B.Y.O.B I got a few bad chicks right here B.Y.O.B Blowing on the kush counting up a bag B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) I'm a boss I ain't working for nobody B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) I'm getting faded finna have a celebration B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) I got a few bad chicks right here B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) Blowing on the kush counting up a bag B.Y.O.B
[Verse 2: King ISO] I remember nothing wasn't working for me Forget about somebody raw working for me I was sick of living check to check Becoming neck to neck with debt collectors searching for me Breaking down a herb and serving perfect poorly Getting mad at baby mama giving birth to shorty And I didn't have a dollar to my name So I got to make a change It was 'bout to be a murder story I vividly remember sitting inside the whip As a delivery drive, percs was on me Sipping on the Sudaf' they thought I was perc-ing homie Trying to get a pack of dollars and a Gerber homie Furthermore the outcome I would get laid off Never took a day off, it hurt me homie Fast forward I'm getting rap money So the chick that fired me inside the restaurant now serving for me Funny how the tables start turning towards the Opposite directions, certainly Enemies wanna be cool Women with the double D boobs looking steady searching for me Twerk it slowly The way the ladies looking at me now, I bet you I can make a virgin horny Could've been purging in purgatory Your pussy like Persian, purring on me Yeah, perfect homie All the late nights and early mornings Finally paid off truly, now to view me gotta have an observatory Personally, purple rolling I'm so high now, Earth, I'm soaring Never be average, you're so boring Glad I made it, perfect story Because
[Hook: King ISO] I'm a boss I ain't working for nobody B.Y.O.B I'm getting faded finna have a celebration B.Y.O.B I got a few bad chicks right here B.Y.O.B Blowing on the kush counting up a bag B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) I'm a boss I ain't working for nobody B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) I'm getting faded finna have a celebration B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) I got a few bad chicks right here B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) Blowing on the kush counting up a bag B.Y.O.B
[Verse 3: Rittz] I ain't had no bank account I used to cash my check at Citgo I ain't try'na get no gas I kept my shit right above E I used to be tired working doubles Picking up my girl we had to split the tips in half 'Cause that's all we had to spend I'm like a rat in this kitchen, the traps was set I break my back for scraps, went back and swept this floor twice Then the health inspector saying we ain't pass the test He's 'bout to fire me, I had to kiss so much ass Feet hurt, kneecaps are red I keep scratching tickets hoping they match the winning numbers I hit the bottom ain't nobody grabbed a net To catch me when I fell Real life Spider-man is swinging from the building casting webs My girl smacked me, I grabbed her neck and let go Dead broke, Us both cryin' on sheets on our mattress wet A screaming match begins so now I'm cursin' at her mom Worryin on hand me down furniture I'm on Might be sittin on the curb and not come home If I see the neighbors searching through my shit I end up murdering someone I was certain to become rich and famous making music I was immature and young It occurred to me, I won't ever make it When you finally heard me on a song Box Chevy Shit I had to work to get it on, now I'm ready Twelve years later on a tour bus, I was making more but I'm balling hardly Of course I be on a tour bus that was filled with roaches At night I felt 'em crawling on me Praying someone sign me, all of a sudden finally Tech N9ne put me on, ever since I've been Shining with the Snake and Bat Soaking up game from Trav And try'na be like them, B.Y.O.B
[Hook: King ISO & Rittz] I'm a boss I ain't working for nobody B.Y.O.B (Yeah, it's Rittz, bitch) I'm getting faded finna have a celebration B.Y.O.B (Sure as shit) I got a few bad chicks right here B.Y.O.B Blowing on the kush counting up a bag B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) I'm a boss I ain't working for nobody B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) I'm getting faded finna have a celebration B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) I got a few bad chicks right here B.Y.O.B (B.Y.O.B!) Blowing on the kush counting up a bag B.Y.O.BTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
