Look Soon as I glow up I need jeans that cost five thousand I need a new private jeweler to send me pictures of new shit I need that Gucci connection I need to fuck my own tutor I need to call up the homies and ball so hard while we losin' I could call up to Jordan and tell him mama wore Puma's Tell 'em endorse my albums and if they don't then they ruined Want a skyscraper, no no more favors Make me sleep better, want my mink sweater Don't wanna get back to nobody, just wanna eat better Wanna do better, want my ice wetter Want my wife cheddar, fuck a pre-nup Nigga 'cause if we blood, and we cous' Then we good Eat up, while we kick our feet up That's it How dare you lose this gift, I made you to make a man To make amends and spend this money on coked out bitches Bottles of elegance is relevant, than what's the point of melanin All these lies of tellin', retellin' resellin', sell again Nigga if it's heaven or earth than tell me what's in the end Darkness and abysses, obituaries that's never said Block boys never reaching tabloids or tablets Never closed cases, but always for closed caskets And you want a number one while a mother's son lungs gaspin' Let's take it back, and yo' little scummy ass ain't have a dollar And yo' daddy done left yo' momma on the South Side of Chicago And you was contemplatin' suicide 'Cause why the fuck was you alive I gave music, I gave paper, than I put your ass on papers You wrote "Dancing In The Rain" When you ain't had no plans to play it Now you won, a major making Put your program in the matrix Bottle copping, pussy popping Treating women like an auction Gave you everything that you window shop for inside that office Taylor Bennett can you resort to service this Sunday? I know you think that you got it But God, it keep giving me something Tell 'em that you're bisexual, especially intellectual Preferably moving decimals, destiny so perpetual A rapper professional and treat microphones like confessionals Until you're and extra-terrestrial, this is more than a blessing, son You know you ain't grow up on a runway Momma put church on Sundays My sundowns sat down, no [?] My homework done, still no fun play No iPhones, iPads, or nothing more integrated Discussions, I should have grown up in D.C Just more and more about nothing My inspiration was hustling Finessing dope from a customer, I'll say My intuition lacked the vision of what I imagined Staring deep distance at the light while the tunnel collapsing And I got both hands up, like don't shoot That's a black nigga's daddy From what I've seen I've got my eyes on that one takin' prize Being rich, black in America when I'm 25 'Cause if you come from where I come from that's a feast for sore eyes 'Cause if you came from where I came you in jail or you died I like to light another instant and instantly vibe And then that stray had found its way, and you instantly die That was back in '05, now little bro, big bro had been died No AK's, ladies, babies on daily's make me crazy God don't hate me, I'm just lazy I don't try, 'cause if I try then I might fail and then they'll hate me I don't ask for what's not handed I want everything that's granted I just want it, I don't plan it Room for unexpected damage I want money, I want camera's Everything that I can handleTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
