Dreamville - Revenge of The Dreamers III Lyrics
Under the Sun
If
You miss me
And you
Can't find
Me nowhere
I done seen it all, oh my God
Uh
I done seen it all, oh my God, I swear
Uh, uh
Nothing new under the sun, nobody f*cking with son
I got a couple of sons, a couple of guns
A couple of niggas that bust up the party and f*ck up the fun
She digging me and I'm cuffing her friend
She ig'ing you while we f*cking for fun
I got her suckin' her thumb, that's my lil' baby
She call me daddy like grandmama baby
If this Sunday dinner, my hand on her gravy
I been on the craziest wave, if I'm on the stage
An M is my minimum wage
This ain't no kennel, behave
Niggas is with all that barking, we send 'em a stray
So in a way we the dogcatchers
How many bullets your dawg catchin'?
Sawed-off, raw dog fashion
Hauled off, hope God catch him, damn
I woke up for some money, ay, lil' bitch
Too many opps in here, tell me who you with, ay
Potato over my gun
I move in silence 'cause niggas be clocking my funds
When they should keep eye on they bitch 'cause baby girl coming with son
Niggas be judging my moves, but please tell me, what have you done?
My cousin'll air out the party for fun
Pistol grips get to squeezing
Wish a nigga would like Liam Neeson
I don't even need a reason, loyalty over treason
Bitch nigga, come and see me
Put some respect on my name
West side of my city I claim
I try to stay in my lane
Took my advance and put a Caprice on them thangs
I'm Beatties Ford 'til the wheels fall
Know some niggas probably pissed off
Who would thought I made it this far?
Gold Mouf, bitch, f*ck 'em all
I woke up for some money, ay, lil' bitch
Too many opps in here, tell me who you with
I just put diamonds on all of my teeth
Now they probably think I ain't intelligent
In the homicide unit interrogation
Asking questions, you know I ain't tell 'em shit
Bitches call me a jock, all-American
I'm at the top of my class with my letterman
I remember back in college, bitches knocking on my dorm door
I ain't never let 'em in
Now you know that that's cap, know I hit a few
Ain't no job, I'm selling gas like I'm Jiffy Lube
I had a freak, used to f*ck while her boyfriend in class
I hit her from the back from like ten to two
No back and forth with these rappers
They mention me, dissin' me
No talkin' back, I won't mention you
Watch, when I come put that iron on your ass and I dip
They gon' want me to snitch in my interviews
I'm on fire, bitch, I'm lit, but I'm really cool
Don't acknowledge the shrimps when they ridicule
They don't come out after dark, bitch, I swim with the sharks
You ain't got enough heart, get a bigger pool
Wanna fight but he bigger, I ain't really trippin'
I reach under my shirt, grab a bigger tool
I got a Glock with a dick, let's get physical
They gon' be hollerin' out, "RIP," and they missin' you
They got me started, I might as well finish (talk your shit, nigga)
I'm from Charlotte, you know how these niggas do, Baby
I woke up for some money, ay, lil' bitch
Too many opps in here, tell me who you with
Writer: Asheton Terrance O'Neil Hogan, Jermaine L. Cole, John Christopher II Welch, Jonathan Lyndale Kirk, Joseph N. Goodwin, Kendrick Lamar Duckworth, Luther Nicholson, Peter James Mudge
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Down Bad
Tell 'em, slime
Yeah, I am the king of the E.A.
Get this bitch screwed like the DJ (Big slime)
Yeah, I am the shit where we play
We got the chalk where we play (okay)
Yeah, come through the city
We gon' chop your ass up just like some sushi (yeah)
Ak47, stick go stupid (yeah)
Draw the money out, all the way
Okay, lil' dirty, nappy-headed East Atlanta nigga
Father said that I was a force
.44, Hank Aaron chrome
Wanna make it home, then get out the Porsche
Let a nigga cover FADER 'fore I have to fade a nigga at the FADER Fort
It's tomato or tomato, either way, the boy the greatest
Play it, I won't say it no more
I was just f*cked up, I was just down, down bad
I had to tighten the f*ck up, but I'm here for the crown
Board of Education vs. Brown
I was bored of education, left the town
F*ck a résumé and f*ck a cap and gown
F*ck a background check, back 'round when I get the check
Nigga, that's now
I was just f*cked up, I was just down, down bad
I had to tighten the f*ck up, but I'm here for the crown, crown (oh, shit)
I was just f*cked up, I was just down, down bad
I had to tighten the f*ck up, but I'm here for the crown, crown, crown, crown
I was just f*cked up, I was just down, down bad
Picked up the pad, picked up the slack, pick of the litter, don't litter no bag
Bassy been pickin' up racks, raps come in clearer than Acuvue 2
When I'm back in the booth
Got 'em hackin' a Shaq 'cause they lackin' the juice
Niggas droppin' the ball, they on Shaqtin' a Fool
Activis drool out the side of yo' face
We ain't jackin' it, we ain't dappin' them fools
Get a napkin, you dudes is embarassin'
Who going crazy like us? No comparison
Dreamville like Marion Jones on the steroids
Y'all niggas slow as a heroin high
Y'all had a year, y'all had a year
Y'all had a year, but you let it go by, yee
I was just f*cked up, I was just down, down bad
I had to tighten the f*ck up, but I'm here for the crown, crown (oh, shit)
I was just f*cked up, I was just down, down bad
I had to tighten the f*ck up, but I'm here for the crown, crown, crown, crown
Dreamville head honcho
Bitch, we came from nothin' just like the big bang theory
That poverty stains kept the pain buried
And covered the shame with a dream
We would have fortune and fame
A mil' in the bank, chameleon paint turned cranberry
Now little Jermaine got the same story
As that boy out of St. Vincent-St. Mary, G.O.A.T.
All hail King Cole, first of his name, long may he reign
The boy got the throne, but you know it ain't a game
'Ville nigga, I was born in the same
Pressure cooker that's been known to bust a lump of coal and make a diamond
Two six, we enrolled in Reaganomics
Crew sick, we the Golden State of rhyming, on God
You could die today, so be hell to pay
I'm a livin', breathin', schemin' testimony
So don't test me, homie, put that D in horny
Put a foot up that ass, you a steppin' stone (yeah)
All my niggas ain't gettin' no sleep (yeah)
All of my niggas be chasin' their dreams (yeah)
Ooh, I'm a force of nature, I can't wait to date ya
I was havin' problems 'til I had to break through
All my tattoos for sure (f*ck it up), they ain't never for show (f*ck it up)
Might get tattoo'd on today (f*ck it up), ya ho get the dope (f*ck it up)
Spend my time makin' love to your thoughts (f*ck it up)
Gon' get in line, baby, slut up your mind (f*ck it up, f*ck it up)
It's a brand new season, I'm a righteous heathen
I take on the challenge and I leave it bleedin'
I was down bad, now I'm Even Steven
And I'm leavin', leavin' every f*ckin' weekend (oh)
I was just f*cked up, I was just down, down bad
I had to tighten the f*ck up, but I'm here for the crown, crown (oh, shit)
I was just f*cked up, I was just down, down bad
I had to tighten the f*ck up, but I'm here for the crown, crown, crown, crown
Writer: Jermaine Lamarr Cole, Abbas Hamad, Quantavious T. Thomas, Destin Route, Olu O. Fann, Eian Undrai Parker
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, YOUNG NUDY PUBLISHING LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Swivel
[Doctur Dot]
Head on a swivel
Trouble lurkin' 'round the corner
Run up on you any minute, you'll be gone
Yeah
[Doctur Dot]
Nigga, keep your head on a swivel
Trouble lurkin' 'round the corner
Run up on you any minute, you'll be gone
I know niggas dead out of desperation
RIP my nigga Alan, damn, I wish you would've stayed at home
Learned to make the best out of shitty situation
No complaining, no more Xan, I leave the medicine alone
Dawg, I swear to God that I'm changing for the better
F*ck whoever got the nerve to try to tell me that I'm wrong
[Doctur Dot]
I done made it up, I done made it out
I done made a way, we been makin' waves, we been making sounds
Rappers hella fake, they papier-mâché
Like piáata, they can't wait to break, I can animate
Promise mama she gon' see the day when we all okay
All it really take is time and dedication, I pray
For the hunger to be permanent, no matter what that make
Hey, batter, batter, swing, bake
Whip the batter for the cake
[Doctur Dot]
Nigga, keep your head on a swivel
Trouble lurkin' 'round the corner
Run up on you any minute, you'll be gone
I know niggas dead out of desperation
RIP my nigga Alan, damn, I wish you would've stayed at home
Learned to make the best out of shitty situation
No complaining, no more Xan, I leave the medicine alone
Dawg, I swear to God that I'm changing for the better
F*ck whoever got the nerve to try to tell me that I'm wrong
[Interlude]
I don't know what it is, man, I just
I don't think I'ma be here much longer, man
Something's watching me, man
Something's following me
Something want me dead, man
Pray for me, pray for me, please
[Johnny Venus]
Hell, when I was young, I ain't had to pop no guns
Nothing cracking in the slums you couldn't handle on your own
Shit around my block where we used to knock
Couple souls fly, wasn't nothin' like you guys, what y'all on
Shit it wasn't nice, wasn't paradise
Wasn't lights back to back to back, many nights was on our own
Mama had to work, papa had three jobs
No, we not Jamaican, my sir, but we all was robbed, hah
Should've kept my head on a weave and bob
I'd rather be dead than to weep and sob
So we solve any major prob with the quick resolve
Had to squab', circle that bitch up, feelings get involved
Neighborhood on lock, f*ck we need a cop?
That was way back way 'fore Reagan passed the rock
Left us with a needle and a jump shot
Leave you countin' seconds on the fingers through the gunshots
[Doctur Dot]
Nigga, keep your head on a swivel
Trouble lurkin' 'round the corner
Run up on you any minute, you'll be gone
I know niggas dead out of desperation
RIP my nigga Alan, damn, I wish you would've stayed at home
Learned to make the best out of shitty situation
No complaining, no more Xan, I leave the medicine alone
Dawg, I swear to God that I'm changing for the better
F*ck whoever got the nerve to try to tell me that I'm wrong
Writer: Eian Undrai Parker, Olu O. Fann, Roosevelt III Harrell
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Oh Wow...Swerve
Yeah, you want the next part, kablaow
Yeah, kablaow, yeah
That's that shit, that's the part right here
Shit, I'm proud
The track, got a whole lot of cash
Kablaow, I put a hole in your
Oh wow (oh wow, oh wow)
She got a big old ass (shawty got a big ol' butt, shit)
I'm proud (but)
I got a whole lot of cash
Kablaow
I put a hole in your ass (and then)
I'm out
Like a motherf*ckin' lamp
Smoke in my nappy dreads, how you scared to die, nigga?
Don't believe that lie, I think that everybody happy dead
Hell is a fabricated figment of imagination
I done seen worse for real right there off Yadkin and behind gas station
Cambridge Homes, 'partments where the girls get damaged young
From overexposure to the vultures
That prey on them like pastors is supposed to
If they wasn't so concerned
About the tags that's on they clothes, but
Guess that's how it goes, f*ck it, what do I know?
Ain't been in service since Jim Jones had somethin' with Hov
I document my life with rap beefs, love songs, favorite albums
In years that my niggas got blood on
They sneakers from bodies they might've caught
I don't judge no one, I'm just knowin'
At night, when it get quiet, that shit could f*ck with 'em
And if it don't right now, it's gon' catch up to 'em
Guilt heavy as a cloud in a thunderstorm, huh
My niggas blowing loud like an elephant
It's helpin' 'em to cope, I don't do nothin' if it don't
Make somethin', make a dollar
Make me wonder, make me prouder
Make me karma, make me better
I ain't no killer, don't make me have to, nigga
You want my spot, well maybe after, nigga
So active on the radio, I'm radioactive, nigga, ooh
That's a bar, I had to give it to 'em
Never slouching, not even on couches in the living room
And I feel like the world is ending soon
Is there any good or bad? Well that's depending on you
And if you wake up in time
I know it's better to be sleep, that's why we hate the alarm
I feel you
Oh wow (oh wow, oh wow)
She got a big old ass (shawty got a big ol' butt, shit)
I'm proud (but)
I got a whole lot of cash (racks, racks, racks)
Kablaow
I put a hole in your ass (and then)
I'm out
Like a motherf*ckin' lamp
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh yeah
(Bizness Boi) yeah, uh, oh yeah
If I keep moving like this, then I'ma glide
Happy on the outside, jealous on the inside
And I know it inside, inside out, ay
What this shit here mean? Is this Japanese? Huh
If I keep moving like this, then I'ma glide
Happy on the outside, jealous on the inside
And I know it inside, inside out, ay
What this shit here mean? Is this Japanese? Huh
The way I'm robbin', niggas say I'm gonna die
I bought a baby Draco carbon, that's a motherf*ckin' lie
Stephen Curry on my hip, Klay Thompson, let it fly
Southwest Murder Block Crips, we don't die, we multiply (Crip)
Maxo talk a lot of shit but is he really 'bout that life? (Say what?)
Is a pig's pussy pork and can a caterpillar fly? (That's right)
Go Go Gadget, toting ratchets, beam attachment on the side
I keep a savage that'll blast it, my crash dummies down to ride
These niggas janky than a bitch, I do my shit up on my lonely
So I can't trust you on a lick if you not Nina, Mac, or Tommy
Trap house serving like hibachi, Draco, chopstick, baby AK
Different flavors like Tekashi, twelve gauge shotty like I'm Tr3yway
Maxo Kobe, holy moly, servin' Smokey like I'm Day-Day
Runnin' out of dog food like I fed Chico
Put a brick on your head and get you dropped like Deebo
I'm slangin' bricks like Craig, I'm tryna drop these bows (Maxo, Maxo, Maxo, Maxo)
If I keep moving like this, then I'ma glide
Happy on the outside, jealous on the inside
And I know it inside, inside out, ay
What this shit here mean? Is this Japanese? Huh
If I keep moving like this, then I'ma glide
Happy on the outside, jealous on the inside
And I know it inside, inside out, ay
What this shit here mean? Is this Japanese? Huh (look)
Alright, I f*cked up my whip 'cause I'm high and I swerve
Sorry that I scared you, I ain't do that on purpose
My life been f*cked up so I got problems with my nerves
My hands be sweaty
Writer: Akeem Douglas Hayes, Andre Carnell Robertson, Armando Shala, Christopher Smith, Destin Route, Emekwanem Jr. Biosah, Jermaine L. Cole, Joe Brooks, Keanu Dean Torres, Marquis Devone Whittaker, Simmie Sims
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Reservoir Media Management, Inc., EMPIRE PUBLISHING
Dont Hit Me Right Now
Yeah, ay
Big for now
It's a check
I got the chopper, yeah, ay, ay, ay
I got the chopper, it sing like opera, I make it swoon the bitch
They know my name, when I'm swerving lanes they still ask who that is
She on the Molly at the house party, hope she don't play the kid
Can't hit my phone, I'm on airplane mode, I'm still on two percent
Don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, yeah
Don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, no
Don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, yeah
(Don't hit me) don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now
Don't hit me right now, bitch (it's a check)
I ain't opposed
She threw the pussy and I ain't opposed
Fighting the lows
Smoking this shit 'til my eyelids are closed
I wear the sheepskin but I am the wolf
I am the poster-child
Finessing the lion that's posing in clothing and lying
To open it, hope that these niggas'll try him
I smoke 'em, I smoke 'em, I
I fry 'em, I sizzle 'em (yeah)
They bitin', they nibblin' (ay)
They lyin', they fibbin' it (whoa)
They childish, they children (trash)
They quiet, they whispering
They dying, I'm killin' 'em (yeah)
They dry, I'm drippin' in (ooh)
They crying, I'm teachin', man (yeah)
Ay, I got the chopper, it sing like opera, I make it swoon the bitch
They know my name, when I'm swerving lanes they still ask who that is
She on the Molly at the house party, hope she don't play the kid
Can't hit my phone, I'm on airplane mode, I'm still on two percent
Don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, yeah
Don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, no
Don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, yeah
(Don't hit me) don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now
Don't hit me right now, bitch (man, let me call you back)
I'm doin' somethin' important
Tryna get these racks
New day, new flight that I'm boarding
All of my bitches important
I seen you call, I ignored it
I got ten toes on the pavement
But my mind is in orbit, gorgeous
I say a prayer to bless mine
This ain't a quiz, don't test mine
I ain't been Wiz, but I get high
You ain't a man 'til you get by, yeah
I ain't trippin' off of nothin', you know I'ma get it, yeah
I ain't trippin' off of nothin', you know that I'm winnin'
Ay, I got the chopper, it sing like opera, I make it swoon the bitch
They know my name, when I'm swerving lanes they still ask who that is
She on the Molly at the house party, hope she don't play the kid
Can't hit my phone, I'm on airplane mode, I'm still on two percent
Don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, yeah
Don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, no
Don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now, yeah
(Don't hit me) don't hit me right now, don't hit me right now
Don't hit me right now, bitch (it's a check)
Writer: Abbas Hamad, Akeem Hayes, Cody Rashad Osagie, Matias Saabye Koedt, Simmie Sims, Tate Farris
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Wells Fargo
Excuse me, sir
Yes, your Grace
Is that my flamethrower beside you? (Why it is)
Please, sir, pass it this way
Can you hand me that pistol over there?
Please don't get nothing on it (my Lord, my Lord)
(Yes) please hand me the bazooka (why, thank you)
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang (haha)
No blood on the couch, please (brrah)
Please, no blood on the couch
(Yes) sir, you got blood on the couch
Can you hand me that machine gun? Sir, damn you, yeah
Get my gun, we 'bout to rob a Wells Fargo
Call some broads, we need to get a whole carload
With my dawgs, we pull up looking like a car show
Smoke a blunt and then she get up off my narcos
Father God in heaven above
I come to you as humbly as I know how
Off hella the drugs and I'm out of my mind
In the meantime, I'ma just smoke this loud
Put this shit on my tongue and this shit'll dissolve
Get a shot of Hennessy just to wash it down
All my white friends call me talkin' proper now
I got the BET's deal so I'm hot for now (Yeah)
He without sin cast the first stone
Told my nigga with the gun he can run in your home
One dome shot, niggas'll never look at him wrong again
Oh my God, oh my God, on this lick
In the car twisted, come here, lil' bitch
Suck on my dick, some of the fun under your sister
Come, come, give me some, tongue, tongue, get it done
Young fun, yum, yum, yum, I'm twisted (yeah)
Get my gun, we 'bout to rob a Wells Fargo (I said, I don't give a f*ck, ah)
Call some broads, we need to get a whole carload (you gettin' this? You recording this?)
With my dawgs, we pull up looking like a car show (are you getting this?)
Smoke a blunt and then she get up off my narcos (woo, yo)
Roses is falling, the money is calling
I'll pedal forever and ever to you
TEC in the boxes of chocolate
I'll send 'em, I'll ship 'em, I'll get 'em delivered to you
Baby, whatever, just come on
Just hop in and get in the car and we go and get boof
Stragglers is off and they fallin'
Whatever, just tell 'em to tell 'em better not make a move (hey)
Skrrt skrrt in a new thing
Throw the cash and she gettin' Raekwon like the Wu-Tang
I think I deserve me a Mulsanne
Me, you, and two or three hoes should do the group thing
Just don't f*ck up the sheets, the Airbnb, and f*ck off the lease
Bitch, mind your bees, I need peace of mind
I beat meat, delete, then be leavin' fine, let's go (yeah, ahh)
Get my gun, we 'bout to rob a Wells Fargo
Got some broads, we need to get a whole carload
With my dawgs, we pull up looking like a car show
Smoke a blunt and then she get up off my narcos, woo
Nigga, it's just how you count it
It just depend on how you count it
Writer: Akeem Douglas Hayes, Destin Route, Eric Dan, John Welch, Olu Fann, Simmie Sims, Tyler Mason
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., EMPIRE PUBLISHING
Sleep Deprived
Ayy
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Yeah
Hey, hey
Uh
[Lute]
I met this girl the other day that wanna know my story
She said since the world against me, she all for me
I told her God must've overheard my hopeful wish
And crazy how I never would've thought to be in this position
'Cause see hip-hop saved my life is such a cliché quote
But before I grabbed the mic, I was the poster-child of broke, uh
Signed my first deal off the realest shit I wrote
I told my city I'm the closest thing to hope
Used to be barely above water, now I float
Same bitches in my DM's used to take me for a joke
Niggas talk crow, shit behind my back and then call me bro
Like bro, you gotta match one before you blow
I always leave the message on seen 'cause I don't smoke
When really I don't f*ck with half these niggas on the low
And that's just how it go
She go, "Damn, nigga, that's deep," I know, tell me about it
My life be full of stress, fake niggas, and sleep deprivin' like uh
[Mez]
Dreams, all my shit been colossal though
Used to be honor roll, now it's foreign whips I'm riding on
Now everything I flow hot as f*ck, I mean poblano though
Me and Lute 'posed to been did this shit, it's perfect timing though
Remember us being younger, talking about gettin' signed to Cole?
I was so hot-headed then, I'm a lot calmer though
Tryna buy me a brick house when I get comma though
Money gon' help with a lot of things but not the trauma though
Had so many adventure times, we used to run from the jakes
To make it for Southside, we do whatever it takes
It was apartheid when my barber parted my fade
'Cause now I'm pulled left and right by Keshia and Adrinae
All this shit gets so deep, man, I'm hoping y'all dive in
I don't f*ck with surviving, I'm only thinkin' 'bout thriving
But you way too afraid, yeah, I know what your vibe is
Always worried 'bout me, that shit must be sleep depriving
[Interlude]
That shit must be sleep depriving
[DaVionne]
I ain't never had nothin', yeah, I had to work for it
Prayed to God every day, even went to church for it
Built from the ground up, played in the dirt for it
God told me it would work out, I took His word for it
We all come from a very different path
Look at what we been through, look at where we at
Got 'em losing sleep worried 'bout what we on
Said I wouldn't make it but I always prove wrong, yeah
[Interlude]
Yeah
[Omen]
Turn into a big deal, but way realer than Black Friday
They let a visionary vibrate
Hoppin' through the Tri-State
I got this bird box simply off a blind date
Now I'm in a tryin' state
Turn into a horror story
Broke my heart to the point I had to find tape
Spraying Lysol, sage, just to wipe her away like eternal sunshine
Pulled up in a drop spot like some summer times
Seen you with some other guy, long story, summarize
Writing on the wall, got your message underlined
I been gettin' high, summer crime, ever since
Wonder why ill intent was inside of your skin, damn
Dookey braids, droopy eyes, it was groupie love
Hurt feelings, no cap like bougie clubs
Sat alone deep in silence
Thinkin' 'bout you gettin' sleep deprivin', yeah
[DaVionne]
I ain't never had nothin', yeah, I had to work for it
Prayed to God every day, even went to church for it
Built from the ground up, played in the dirt for it
God told me it would work out, I took His word for it
We all come from a very different path
Look at what we been through, look at where we at
Got 'em losing sleep worried 'bout what we on
Said I wouldn't make it but I always prove wrong, yeah
Writer: Cameron Osteen, Damon Coleman, Davionne Starks, Jarrett Goodly, Jay Oyebadejo, Juro Davis, Kaleb Nathan Rollins, Kedrick Cannady, Luther Nicholson, Marc Soto, Morris Ricks, Ronald Gilmore
Copyright: Lyrics © OLADOTUN OYEBADEJO, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Self Love
I said
Tired of being cordial
Tired of being normal
Tired of being forced in
Tied up in the moment
I'm leaving with outer purpose
Wearing it on the surface, love
Making it look good
Meanwhile it's been hurting, oh
Self love is the best love
See your love is the worst drug
Self love is the best love
But your love is the worst drug
Ahh, ah-ah-ah (ah)
(Hey, hee) ah, ah-ah-ah (oh)
Tired of all this faking
Wearing all of this makeup
And meanwhile feeling complacent
Fitting in, feeling basic and
Meanwhile tryna replace him
But all these feelings are makeshift
Hard for me to face it
When everything is changing, ay
Self love is the best love
But your love was the worst drug
Self love is the best love
But your love is the worst drug
Ahh, ah-ah-ahh, ah
Ahh, ah-ah-ahh (oh)
Take it in vain, this pain is a feeling that we can't ignore
Dealer man, hand me more
A baby in a candy store
I got secrets that just can't leave tour
How did we go from lost in your arms to
arms in a conflict?
Long arm my conscience
Lost in my thoughts
The cost of my art, we growing apart
You growing irate
Stuck in the door of my state
I carry my Gemini traits
I bury my face
Shameful hands, took your hand
Led you astray, as you would say
As soon as we clash, you adjudicate
As for the date, it was like last June or May
We were like, "Let's do the break", 'cause
Self love is the best love
But your love was the worst drug
Self love is the best love
But your love is the worst drug
Ahh, ahh, ah-ah-ah
Ahh, ah-ah-ah (oh)
Writer: Abbas Hamad, Ari Lennox, Arsenio Umberto Archer, Naje Travis, Rose Wilson, Sensei Bueno
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Ladies Ladies Ladies
I always wanted to do one of these type shits
Uh, I had a yellow girl, called her, "Dandelion"
She be panty-less, so no panty lines
She's from Campbellton, north of county line
Steady hands, never let her count the bands, though
She f*cked me, tryna pluck a couples bucks like a banjo
Had a girl that was a artist, she could draw, her name Tracy
She always outta line, making Mona Lisa faces
And we argue all the time, but we f*ck like we crazy
She said her favorite thing is face painting
I used to have this white shorty, always hanging with the black folk
She used to bump Black Thought, I saw her using black soap
That's a wack thought, ain't wanna kick her to the curb
Until she asked me, can she say the N word?
(Hey, can I say "nigga" around you?) Some nerve
I knew a girl from Jersey who use to love Donny Hathaway
And she was from Piscataway
Her brother pulled a gun on me
She told him "Put the gat away"
I was tapping that ass, I'll never forget the Saturday
But it don't even matter like D'Angelo and Laur' Hill
I had a country girl from Alabama down in Mobile
At that time, she had mo' bills than me
And she, her, had no time to chill with me
I still miss her, I wonder where could she be?
Hand me the Fronto leaf
(Hey, damn bro, I don't think we got no more)
Aight, let's go to the store
(Aight nigga, shit, but we driving yo' shit)
You driving?
Young nigga, you don't know nothing 'bout no bitches, listen
Now as we smoke and ride and reminisce
I'm thinking back to a time
When I was young and dumb with single nigga privileges
I had a chick, her name was Loraine, did anything for me
On the day she get her hair done, walk in the rain for me
Pick Sharika up and stole the car, she wasn't ashamed of me
Trapping hard, slept on the floor, and never complained to me
My baby went into stores and did her thang for me
Even ran from police and got it back on the train for me
Lame to me, half of these bitches, laugh at these bitches
'Til the point you go on IG and you can rap for these bitches
Not to say I wouldn't tackle these bitches, given the chance
If it happened, it was destiny, shit was out of my hands
I'm saying
Man, they say karma is constant
That means it's just, it's a consistent cycle of
Good and bad
Coming and going from every source of life
Existing on Earth, so
If I f*cked a bitch real good back in the day
You know what I'm saying?
I'm talking like real good
And like made her feel, you know
Like the woman that it made her into the woman that she is right now, then
I'd expect somebody should be coming to f*ck me real good any day now
I mean it's karma, right? Shit
Writer: Clifford Joseph Harris, Destin Route, Kalon Berry, Victor Lemonte Wooten
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
1993
Ay
These motherf*ckers, man, yo (Elite, Elite, Elite)
Check it, yo, check it out, ay
Since 1993
I've been smoking weed, ask about me
Niggas know not to
Oh, wait, niggas know, oh, f*ck, ay
(Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get f*cked up)
(Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get f*cked up)
(Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get f*cked up)
(Roll up, shit)
Uh, I'm drunk at a party, ain't put down my cup
The f*ck is my water? I pick this shit up
Then drank all the water and threw this shit up
It's ash in my cup, I'm mad as a muh', huh
I push pack like USPS, you is a b-itch
Ay, yo, yo, shut the f*ck, ay
Don't even rap, nigga, you, ay, hold on
Hold the f*ck up, nigga
Tell me why you wanna come get high tonight
I only got one reason, I'm top dog tonight
I let the broads borrow my room and I got caught tonight
Drunken partying, slobbering, 'nother sloppy night
Always fight with my mama, but look, on my leave night
I'll call her, when I'm a baller, I promise that I'ma score you
Until then, I'ma ignore you, it's nothing personal (sorry)
I'm just tryna f*ck a couple girls and go
Can't do that while I'm on the phone
I'm not a mother's boy, I'm a motherf*cker
Ay, ay, ay, hold on, hold on, nigga
Can I smoke? Can I smoke? Can I smoke, nigga?
(Oh-oh-oh-oh)
(Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get f*cked up)
(Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get f*cked up)
(Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get f*cked up)
(Roll up, shit)
Yeah
Sittin' sideways, side steppin' side bitches
Side eyes, light skin, need stitches, mind your business
You're slurring, my baby, you're surfing, no turfing
My girl drippin', dirty whispers in my ear
I don't mumble
A-B-C your way up out the convo
Lookin' for sluts, oh? I know a couple
Bro, bro, bro, bro, ay, bro, bro, bro, bro
Ay, nigga, come on, like
Nigga, stop rapping, start passing
(Oh-oh-oh-oh) like can I? Nigga
(Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get f*cked up) bro, bro
(Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get f*cked up)
(Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get f*cked up)
(Roll up, shit)
Look, okay the weed so strong it got me stressed
The stress so strong it got me weed
I'm so on, it threw me off (yeah)
I'm throwed off, yes indeed
I threw up after my threesome
On my threads, had to leave the crime scene like criminals do
She wanna come to my crib and give me a genital smooch
Typical, typical, get the piccolo, skididdle, skedaddle
I sling peen like a lasso
That mean king save the queen from the castle
I grab the saddle
Prisoner to prescription, it's changed, jackal, Jack Daniels
Shawty tryna tell me
Motherf*cker, ay, didn't I say? Nigga, ay
We can't rap, nigga, we smoking weed
Stop rappin', nigga, this is not a rap session
We gettin' high
If I smoke a blunt right now
I'ma be on 285 with my pants pulled down
Around my ankles
Still no stranger to the blunt smoke, gun smoke
You niggas don't want smoke
No guts like that Swisher we just smoked
We cutthroat, niggas (hold, hold on, hold on)
Wait, w-w-w-wait
W-w-w-wait, wait, wait, wait, wait
Hold on, wait, wait, wait, wait, ay, wait
Shh, shh, shh
Wait, wait, wait, okay, Watson, Watson, stop
'Cause this nigga J. Cole, he done grew some dreads
He think he smoke now
Pass the blunt, nigga, stop rappin'
That's the end of the song, nigga
This the end of the session, we goin' home
I just called my Lyft
I just wanna call the, I mean hit the blunt, I mean
Let me try one more time
Writer: Anthony Parrino, Cody Osagie, Destin Route, Eian Parker, Jermaine Cole, Simmie Sims Iii
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Reservoir Media Management, Inc.
Rembrandt...Run It Back
(You don't give a damn, then we don't give a f*ck)
(On God, I been waitin' for one of y'all pussy niggas to buck)
(Still starving, ribs touching)
(Touch the team and you get touched like home screen buttons)
(Hoes scream loud, Jennifer Hudson when them thangs start bustin') uh, alright
Shit talkin', lick talk
Pissed off, stick talk
Diss track, get mad
Rap niggas big trash
Your squad, my squad
Mismatched, piss ants
Cheese chase, gym rats
Picture paint, Rembrandts
Tree trunk, thin branch
I leave, come back
This fall, diss all y'all niggas I came up with
My, what a bit of a change up
These niggas lame, we in minimal danger
I got the banger, just give me the next
My nigga put me in the game and I'm ready to flame, I'm anxious (yeah)
Put the motherf*ckin' bank on it
Big nuts hangin', big bucks bringin', f*ck 'em all
No slut shamin', money in the Cayman, I'm appalled
Niggas swear they bangin', Feds got 'em singin' on the squad
Crack rock slangin' on blacktop pavement, tryna ball
Line 'em up on the wall, three deep, final call
Knee-deep, squeeze three, beep beep, Tylenol
Pulled up, one deep, no squad, just me
Just God, no prob', real niggas tend to f*ck wit' me
No jewelry, no stunt for me
Just a Bentley truck, and an empty cup of whatever that is
You too concerned 'bout how clever that is
Me, I'm concerned how much bread that it is
Or lettuce that it is
I been got my mama, I'll get off of this
I'm f*cking the game, you niggas is lame
You won't even get a little head out of this
Bet I'ma miss, you niggas is dense
My hits goin' over the fence
How is you niggas so rich? I'm not so convinced
My wrist costin' more than your whip
And I don't wear that no more, that shit there look tacky
Yeah, I'm the GOAT, no nigga, don't at me
Put on your coat, the world gon' get colder
This is my year, don't say I ain't told you, nigga
(You don't give a damn, then we don't give a f*ck)
(On God, I been waitin' for one of y'all pussy niggas to buck)
(Still starving, ribs touching)
(Touch the team and you get touched like home screen buttons)
(Hoes scream loud, Jennifer Hudson when them thangs start bustin'
Ay, ay, nigga, ay, ay
Ay, yo, uh-uh
Ay, yo
Ay, ain't this that, um
Ay, ain't this the Dreamville shit? This the, um
I had a dream, I had a Glock, I had a beam, run it back
I had a dream, she in Celine, I'm in Supreme, run it back
Y'all had the dream, I had the guap, I hit the green, run it back
Ready to go, ready to score, ready for war, run it back
I'm finna bring the summer back
I'm finna bring the Hummer back
Snuck my gun in the function
I bust, he not coming back
Dummy racks, hundred stacks
Police killed 'bout a hundred blacks
Don't get killed tryna run a lap
Nigga don't get killed tryna run a
Writer: Destin Route, Jermaine L. Cole, John Christopher Welch III, Kal Banks, Vincent Staples
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Sunset
(Pyrex whipper)
Niggas want smoke, mmh
Niggas want smoke, I want it too, mmh
Niggas want, mmh, niggas want, mmh
(Chasethemoney, CHASETHEMONEY), mmh
Niggas want smoke, I want it too
Roses are red, my diamonds are blue
Pockets is green, a permanent hue
My niggas get work like assignments is due
Just made a mil', I counted it once
I think I go spread it around in the slums
2-6 boy, that's where I'm from
Help me get used to the sound of the drum
Rolls Royce riding down Sunset
I must get a crib in LA
F*ck a nigga finna tell me?
Catch him slipping, send him to Raleigh
Big ass chopper make God flinch
Ducking from the boys in the field
Just as good as poison with the steel
Hesitation always get you killed, nigga
I wanna pop my shit
I wanna cop my whip in cash
On that note, pull up on them folks
In an all black Ghost like Christmas Past, this shit's ass
Low-key rich with the same outfit that I did just have
Pardon the smoke, that's just my staff
Quik Stop, never seen this much gas, nigga
I got a story to tell
You to speak for the niggas that never could speak for theyself
I was off Cumberland Road
When a couple of niggas mistook me for somebody else
I put the pedal to metal
When I seen the muzzle, I couldn't help but think to myself
Boy, keep your ass in the house, the city is bad for your health
Mmh, niggas want smoke, I want it too
Roses are red, my diamonds are blue
Pockets is green, a permanent hue
My niggas get work like assignments is due
Just made a mil', I counted it once
I think I go spread it around in the slums
2-6 boy, that's where I'm from
Help me get used to the sound of the drum
Rolls Royce riding down Sunset
I must get a crib in LA
F*ck a nigga finna tell me?
Catch him slipping, send him to Raleigh
Big ass chopper make God flinch
Ducking from the boys in the field
Just as good as poison with the steel
Hesitation always get you killed, nigga
(Y'all really with the shit)
Pull up on your block, ain't no hesitation (skrrt, yeah)
Hit you with the stick, try to run, you ain't gon' make it (huh?)
Whole lot of money on your head, gotta take it (yeah, I do)
Roll through your hood like some dice, we gon' shake it (we gon' shake it)
Bitch turned up in the spot booty shakin', yeah (Nasty)
I like this bitch gettin' naked, yeah (yeah, bitch)
F*ck for the money, she crazy, huh (yeah, bitch)
Paradise East, from the bricks, yeah, they made me
Nigga wanna hate, gettin' money, say I'm crazy (okay)
Shit bankroll, ain't nothin' but big faces
Spread it in your face, make a motherf*cker hate me
Whole lot of money, make me wanna come take it
I'm in the hood where this shit ain't safe
It's okay, got a Glock, AK
Niggas try to play, I'ma hit 'em in the face (mmh)
Niggas want smoke, I want it too
Roses are red, my diamonds are blue
Pockets is green, a permanent hue
My niggas get work like assignments is due
Just made a mil', I counted it once
I think I go spread it around in the slums
2-6 boy, that's where I'm from
Help me get used to the sound of the drum
Rolls Royce riding down Sunset
I must get a crib in LA
F*ck a nigga finna tell me?
Catch him slipping, send him to Raleigh
Big ass chopper make God flinch
Ducking from the boys in the field
Just as good as poison with the steel
Hesitation always get you killed, nigga
Writer: Chase Dalton Rose, Jermaine L. Cole, Kal Banks, Kendrick Cannady, Quantavious Thomas
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Got Me
Now do you wanna know what I'm thinking right now?
Swerving down Pico, girl, I'm coming right now
I'm obnoxious, I'm sorry
Touch it soft but I like it rough too
We done done enough talkin'
Take your time, let you do what you do (oh)
Call me when you're lonely
Call me when you need somebody (yeah)
You do it for your man and not just anybody
And I got you long as you got me (yeah)
I got you long as you got me
And I got you long as you got me
I got you long as you got me (yeah)
I got you long as you got me
And I got you long as you got me
As long as you got me
Who you wanna love you?
Who you know can come through and get it right like this?
Call me when you need me
But them other bitches, yeah, they cool
But they ain't quite like this
Who you wanna love ya?
Who you know can come through and get it right like this?
Call me when you need me
But them other bitches, yeah, they cool
But they ain't quite like this
I got you long as you got me (yeah, yeah)
And I got you long as you got me
I got you long as you got me (yeah)
I got you long as you got me
And I got you long as you got me
As long as you got me
Yeah, I'm double-dating destiny
With angels and my demons on my shoulder like Chicago
Feel like I done struck the lotto when I saw you
Bottom of your shoes make a nigga think you Piru
Used to have the blues, but too prideful
To show you everything
I could be myself around you
Ain't gotta fake smile, you like it face down
Like you caught an eight count
TKO, Teddy Pendergrass
A nice guy, but see, nice guys finish last
In the bedroom, stealing cover, fight for leg room
You my best goon, come through for me like Neptunes' classics
Get your back bent, silky black skin
If they knew how real you are, they'd probably clap hands
In your presence
Eye candy cool, but with chocolate, got a fetish
Been some things I only shared with you and not my fellas
Called me to stop through
Get you off like cops do
You got me, I got you
I got you long as you got me
And I got you long as you got me
I got you long as you got me (yeah)
I got you long as you got me
And I got you long as you got me
I got you long as you got me, yeah (yeah, look)
Hold me tighter when I'm trippin' (yeah)
Fire the lighter, let's get lifted (light 'em up)
I done ran into a lot of wrong niggas with right intentions (for real)
Shit like therapy 'cause you know how to talk and when to listen
Kind of love when it don't change if I'm natural or with extensions
I got you
I heard some rumors, I'm just hoping they ain't true (I ain't listen)
Been living good, but it get better when I'm with you (I like that)
You should know I'm tweaking when I say I'm through (I'm lyin')
You the only one with my focus, I'm the baddest up out my crew (bad bitch)
He like 'em brown skinned, independent, money-driven, Gucci'd down
How 'bout you get in your Benz and come and give this coochie rounds? (Look)
Like niggas who give me full attention no matter who he 'round
It's cute when he get jealous, a nigga try me, he make that Uzi sound
Master satin sheets grippin', sex that'll have your teeth grittin'
How I end up at your crib? Marijuana decisions (I was high)
A freak for you, ATL, he got my peach drippin'
But you know it's a lie if somebody say that they caught me slippin' (lies)
So when he get that feeling, he know to call me (hit my line)
Love, sex, or the money, shit, I want all three (I want it all)
Them other niggas ain't my taste, I'm too saucy (I am)
And if them bitches asking who you with, just know it's all me (Dreezy)
Writer: Carl Thompson, Chrystel Bagrou, Courtney Shanade Salter, Damon Coleman, Deante Van Hitchcock, Faith Renee Evans, Floyd James Ansoniae Howard, Jamil M. Pierre, Joi Olivia Coleman, Mirsad Dervic, Ozan Yildirim, Seandrea Sledge, Tate Farris, Tyrone William Griffin, Vincent Adair Berry
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Capitol CMG Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
MIDDLE CHILD
You good, T-Minus?
Niggas been countin' me out
I'm countin' my bullets, I'm loadin' my clips
I'm writin' down names, I'm makin' a list
I'm checkin' it twice and I'm gettin' 'em hit
The real ones been dyin', the fake ones is lit
The game is off balance, I'm back on my shit
The Bentley is dirty, my sneakers is dirty
But that's how I like it, you all on my dick
I'm all in my bag, this hard as it get
I do not snort powder, I might take a sip
I might hit the blunt, but I'm liable to trip
I ain't poppin' no pill, but you do as you wish
I roll with some fiends, I love 'em to death
I got a few mil' but not all of them rich
What good is the bread if my niggas is broke?
What good is first class if my niggas can't sit?
That's my next mission, that's why I can't quit
Just like LeBron, get my niggas more chips
Just put the Rollie right back on my wrist
This watch came from Drizzy, he gave me a gift
Back when the rap game was prayin' I'd diss
They act like two legends cannot coexist
But I'd never beef with a nigga for nothin'
If I smoke a rapper, it's gon' be legit
It won't be for clout, it won't be for fame
It won't be 'cause my shit ain't sellin' the same
It won't be to sell you my latest lil' sneakers
It won't be 'cause some nigga slid in my lane
Everything grows, it's destined to change
I love you lil' niggas, I'm glad that you came
I hope that you scrape every dollar you can
I hope you know money won't erase the pain
To the OGs, I'm thankin' you now
Was watchin' you when you was pavin' the ground
I copied your cadence, I mirrored your style
I studied the greats, I'm the greatest right now
F*ck if you feel me, you ain't got a choice
Now I ain't do no promo, still made all that noise
This year gon' be different, I set my intentions
I promise to slap all that hate out your voice
Niggas been countin' me out
I'm countin' my bullets, I'm loadin' my clips
I'm writin' down names, I'm makin' a list
I'm checkin' it twice and I'm gettin' 'em hit
The real ones been dyin', the fake ones is lit
The game is off balance, I'm back on my shit
The Bentley is dirty, my sneakers is dirty
But that's how I like it, you all on my dick
I just poured somethin' in my cup
I've been wantin' somethin' I can feel
Promise I am never lettin' up
Money in your palm don't make you real
Foot is on they neck, I got 'em stuck
I'ma give 'em somethin' they can feel
If it ain't 'bout the squad, don't give a f*ck
Pistol in your hand don't make you real
I'm dead in the middle of two generations
I'm little bro and big bro all at once
Just left the lab with young 21 Savage
I'm 'bout to go and meet Jigga for lunch
Had a long talk with the young nigga Kodak
Reminded me of young niggas from 'Ville
Straight out the projects, no fakin', just honest
I wish that he had more guidance, for real
Too many niggas in cycle of jail
Spending they birthdays inside of a cell
We coming from a long bloodline of trauma
We raised by our mamas, Lord we gotta heal
We hurting our sisters, the babies as well
We killing our brothers, they poisoned the well
Distorted self image, we set up to fail
I'ma make sure that the real gon' prevail, nigga
I just poured somethin' in my cup
I've been wantin' somethin' I can feel
Promise I am never lettin' up
Money in your palm don't make you real
Foot is on they neck, I got 'em stuck
I'ma give 'em somethin' they can feel
If it ain't 'bout the squad, don't give a f*ck
Pistol in your hand don't make you real
Money in your palm don't make you real
Pistol in your hand don't make you real
Money in your palm don't make you real
Writer: Jermaine Cole, Tyler Matthew Carl Williams, Allan Felder, Norman Harris
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Songtrust Ave, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
PTSD
[Mereba]
Used to bend for me like the steel of a hatchback
You was there for Q like a fourth grade class fact
Q was in for me, never needed to ask that
PTSD, now I'm having a flashback
Told me I'm sweet, can't sleep in the trap trap
Enemy, envy, make the strap go brrat brrat
You the missing piece, no peace when I sleep now
Used to practice peace, finna sleep with the piece now
Know I'ma miss you long as I'm alive
You said you either gon' get rich or die tryin'
I wish I didn't have a song to write
I know you'd probably rather me keep it light
[Deante' Hitchcock]
My mama told me faith is all that I need
And back in the day I would've agreed, but now it's hard to believe
I still do, not 'cause I want, 'cause I need to
Believe in something greater than me without being able to see it
So f*ck a watch, I wear my heart on my sleeve
Nobody knows my sorrow, nobody knows about the trouble I seen
A lot of dead niggas livin' through me, shawty, but not in the literal
Most 'em dead 'cause they ain't follow they dream
The power of a higher entity entered me
Mentally, physically, spiritually, I'm on a whole different energy
F*ck the world, but I need you to remember me
I had doubt in myself 'cause I used to fear that you would look at me differently
If I ever changed, I'm numb to it now, I don't feel the same
A slave to the feeling, I'm breaking the chains
Tryna balance out the joy, the pain, the sun, the rain
My life and the fame, done lost the game
The guilt, the shame, my skin, my veins
My soul done rained so much on my heart
Really I don't know where to start
The irony of finding self in the dark
My nigga, truthfully, feel like it's two of me, I should've been on that ark
A love-hate relationship with my thoughts, I'm tryna shine in my own light
The realest nigga left in my own right
Helping you with your vices but can't seem to get a grip on my own life, yeah
[Omen]
I was on my way down, breakdowns, breakthroughs
Bitter 'bout my debut, gotta say I stayed true
Maybe why I stayed broke, I been on a goose chase
Gotta swallow pride when they see me, how the truth taste?
Off the beaten path like Blueface
On the North Side, had to be a Tuesday
Walkin' slow with your kids on a school day
Way past midnight suddenly my mood change
That's when the truth came, in New York hearing rumors
My sister was homeless, don't visit her often
Been years since we talked, number changed
Saw you and my heart broke in a couple ways
I can't believe when I seen you, I knew shit was true
Stared in your eyes and I saw a different you
Skated off fast 'fore I could address it
Hope I ran into you 'fore we both get to Heaven
[St. Beauty]
We 'ight, we 'ight
You opened up my eyes and helped me see the light
We 'ight, we 'ight
You opened up my eyes and helped me see the light, ayy
[Buddy]
Yeah, hahahaha
We just kickin' it, you know, ayy, woah
I'm here with all my friends
This is for the homies, for the homies, all the homies, what? What?
And the hoes
Hahahaha, yeah
Said this is for the homies, for the homies, all the homies, what?
And the hoes
Can't forget about the hoes, yeah
For the homies, for the homies, for the homies, what? What?
And the hoes
(Ayy, that shit sound tight)
This is for the homies, for the homies, all the homies, what? What?
And the hoes
Hahahaha, yeah
Said this is for the homies, for the homies, all the homies, what?
And the hoes
Can't forget about the hoes, yeah
For the homies, for the homies, for the homies, what? What?
And the hoes
Writer: Damon Coleman, Alexe Belle, Isis Valentino, Marian Mereba, Deante Van Hitchcock
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Sacrifices
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
That nigga back from the dead
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
Nigga almost lost his head, yeah
Gotta run, gotta fly, gotta float
Channels on top of the dresser
Baby, you down, need to bless up
Gotta watch how you address us
Playing no games, no dress-up
I got an idea
'Less you wildin' out in my hood, dawg ain't right here
Caption me as world nominated before I miss, yeah
Let the AK spray straight before I'm finished, yeah
As a monologue, talking to the fog, f*ck a ho and miss, yeah
I make sacrifices, bloody sacrifices
Cutthroat, grab his toe, I suppose
Maybe that's what life is
Ay, man, caveman
Two drink, cave in
Two blunt, ease up
Booyah, leaves up
Who care? Who there?
Do what? Wake up
The hell, happened
We want, hands up
Pay you, dare you
Motherf*ck, motherf*ck
Sister f*cked, granny f*cked
System, get some
Yeah, you, day two
Yeah, you, you, you
You a van, through the van
Stripper, good Lord
Top chi, not me
Boy, please, whatever
You next, to death
To go, ooh, oh
Who's that? Ring ring
Your number, bang bang
Callin' up, talk it up, move over
I make sacrifices, bloody sacrifices
Cutthroat, grab his toe, I suppose
Shit lookin' all red from the North with the power
It ain't Santa Claus
Brought my gifts to Atlanta, I'm Atlanta Claus
I can smell you pussy with the panties off, I
Been gettin' to the bread, tryna keep this shit low
But it ain't workin', my
Circle on fire like a circus now
Around the same niggas I been around, so
Of course I (Of course I), endorse my (endorse my)
Reggie lil' nigga from the North Side (North Side)
It's astigmatism, you got poor sight (poor sight)
Let the bitches forget it, I do it Alzheim'
Of course I (of course I), I divorce my (divorce my)
Opinion on advance when you walk past
(On bro, that shit groovy, I made it)
Niggas pull strings like a guitar
Guitar, G-Star jeans on my sneakers
I'm a real soulful nigga
Collared greens inside your speakers (yeah, yeah)
Ferguson days on Castro
Wasn't no cash flow
But I'm good for the arch, I'm Dr. Scholl's
I'm good for your whore, let me snatch your soul, soul, soul
Bloody sacrifices
Yeah, ay, look at what a motherf*cker do for the cash intake
They'll be right across your head like it's Ash Wednesday
You got to just get off your ass like your ass is fake
You can't sit, and if we ain't siblings, then I can't relate
Today's shit, I'm Asic, I run shit, I got it jumpin' like pump fake
I don't need nothing but one take
I'm from the part of the city
Where young nigga keep him a nine like one plus eight
Our politician a f*ckface
Corrupt like a Dogg Pound Gangsta
We do it like a small town wager
How I'm the dropout major
Success stories, I favor
Used to cover my scars, out here tryna cover The Fader
Yeah, Pro Tools, knobs, and the faders
Tail picks, as-salamu alaykum
You ain't 'bout static like AM radio, ain't even playin'
I put my heart and my all in my art, I'm alternate
All of them are the same, it's harder to tell 'em apart some days
I thought I'd call 'em out altogether
Rather than waste the amount of bars it'll take for me to call 'em out by name
Caught a glimpse of the alternate world I've introduced to you
Via the studio, got 'em studying our mixtape
I'm from the hood like my mama, put that on my mama
I lay the law down like parliament, all just with a pen and page
I make sacrifices, bloody sacrifices
You can't be everything to everybody
I wanna be your lover, your best friend
Your Batman, Spiderman
Fight to polish who and now your rival's in
I wanna damn near kill you to be the one that heal you up
I wanna be the one that feel you up
On nights when you need good dick to cheer you up
I wanna be the one to build you up
A wall worth five billion bucks to keep out the rah-rah
And the blah-blah-blah so nobody try to steal your thunder
Pull you under
Toss my hopes out, Royal Rumble
We done moved out to the Boondocks
Built a big house, there he wonders
How somewhere along the way
He went from Huey to Eddie Wuncler
I been so disconnected, my perspective is ignorant
When you rich, niggas don't wanna correct you
Say something crazy, they won't interject
Do every drug that you want, they gon' let you
Dangerous when it's nobody to check you
I be havin' to check myself
Nigga, stop holding that money, you know you got plenty
I be havin' to spread my wealth
I used to be at the crib myself
Seven years old, off of Bragg Boulevard
Where they bag up the raw
They gon' stand on the corner, one hand on they balls
And they ran when the cops come, there go the laws
Then I packed up a bag and I trapped it up North on the path of a star
And I ran into you like I met you before
Now damn, me and you goin' half on a boy, sing
Huggin' the block, huggin' the block all day
I had nowhere to go, she gave me a place to stay
She gave me her heart to hold, I still got that shit to this day
She ridin' with me on the road, she ridin' with me in the A
Huggin' the block, huggin' the block, okay
She gave me the gift of my son, and plus we got one on the way
She gave me a family to love, for that, I can never repay
I'm crying while writing these words
The tears, they feel good on my face, hey
And yesterday could feel just like a waste, yeah
If I don't love you, how I'm supposed to?
And yesterday could feel just like a waste, yeah
If I don't love you, how I'm supposed to?
I make sacrifices, bloody sacrifices
Writer: Benjamin Tolbert, Christopher Smith Jr., Jermaine L. Cole, Justin Keith Henderson, Malik Chandler, Olu O. Fann
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Hipgnosis Songs Group