I can't do nothin' but thank God for the new shoes
I ain't have a clue what to do
Gotta thank God for a lot, I ain't on the block
Nigga better stop, who is you?
They gon' talk a lot when you not on top, now I'm hot
Now a nigga cop what he wanna cop off the lot
Why they worry 'bout what a nigga got? Ayy
Bitch, I ain't worried 'bout you
Never had a lot, but I made a cop and I made it pop
Made it do what it do
Punchin' in the clock, money in the box just to wear some rocks
Still graduated school
'Member I was bummy, now I'm gettin' money, cookin' up with Sonny
Man, they said that I would lose, yeah
So I had to bust a move, oh, yeah, yeah
Mama cried on Christian really sittin' in the back seat
I was only tryna make our sister way too happy
I know you probably love me more if I had stayed a athlete
So I been runnin' through these f*ckin' hundreds like a track meet
Then ever since we fell out, I ain't kept up with my acne
I been solo-doloin', ain't had them on the back knee
Heard word around the city, man, some niggas wanna whack me
Four hundred, Taylor totin', tell a nigga, "Come get at me," yeah
I'm in the game now
I took my brothers out the ghetto and I ain't changed now
I love they mothers like no other through my veins now
Neck clutter when I rock a couple chains now
Best cover when I tell you that the gang slide
Next bust'll come through bustin' at the same time
Bad bustin', 'bout two hundred, set the lane fire
Chest burnin' from his burner, I just thank God
I can't do nothin' but thank God for the new shoes
I ain't have a clue what to do
Gotta thank God for a lot, I ain't on the block
Nigga better stop, who is you?
They gon' talk a lot when you not on top, now I'm hot
Now a nigga cop what he wanna cop off the lot
Why they worry 'bout what a nigga got? Ayy (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Bitch, I ain't worried 'bout you
Never had a lot, but I made a cop and I made it pop
Made it do what it do (yeah)
Punchin' in the clock, money in the box just to wear some rocks
Still graduated school (yeah)
'Member I was bummy, now I'm gettin' money, cookin' up with Sonny
Man, they said that I would lose, yeah
So I had to bust a move, oh, yeah, yeah
2KBABY - NEW SHOES Lyrics
2KBABY - NEW SHOES Lyrics
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I can't do nothin' but thank God for the new shoes
I ain't have a clue what to do
Gotta thank God for a lot, I ain't on the block
Nigga better stop, who is you?
They gon' talk a lot when you not on top, now I'm hot
Now a nigga cop what he wanna cop off the lot
Why they worry 'bout what a nigga got? Ayy
Bitch, I ain't worried 'bout you
Never had a lot, but I made a cop and I made it pop
Made it do what it do
Punchin' in the clock, money in the box just to wear some rocks
Still graduated school
'Member I was bummy, now I'm gettin' money, cookin' up with Sonny
Man, they said that I would lose, yeah
So I had to bust a move, oh, yeah, yeah
Mama cried on Christian really sittin' in the back seat
I was only tryna make our sister way too happy
I know you probably love me more if I had stayed a athlete
So I been runnin' through these f*ckin' hundreds like a track meet
Then ever since we fell out, I ain't kept up with my acne
I been solo-doloin', ain't had them on the back knee
Heard word around the city, man, some niggas wanna whack me
Four hundred, Taylor totin', tell a nigga, "Come get at me," yeah
I'm in the game now
I took my brothers out the ghetto and I ain't changed now
I love they mothers like no other through my veins now
Neck clutter when I rock a couple chains now
Best cover when I tell you that the gang slide
Next bust'll come through bustin' at the same time
Bad bustin', 'bout two hundred, set the lane fire
Chest burnin' from his burner, I just thank God
I can't do nothin' but thank God for the new shoes
I ain't have a clue what to do
Gotta thank God for a lot, I ain't on the block
Nigga better stop, who is you?
They gon' talk a lot when you not on top, now I'm hot
Now a nigga cop what he wanna cop off the lot
Why they worry 'bout what a nigga got? Ayy (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Bitch, I ain't worried 'bout you
Never had a lot, but I made a cop and I made it pop
Made it do what it do (yeah)
Punchin' in the clock, money in the box just to wear some rocks
Still graduated school (yeah)
'Member I was bummy, now I'm gettin' money, cookin' up with Sonny
Man, they said that I would lose, yeah
So I had to bust a move, oh, yeah, yeah
I ain't have a clue what to do
Gotta thank God for a lot, I ain't on the block
Nigga better stop, who is you?
They gon' talk a lot when you not on top, now I'm hot
Now a nigga cop what he wanna cop off the lot
Why they worry 'bout what a nigga got? Ayy
Bitch, I ain't worried 'bout you
Never had a lot, but I made a cop and I made it pop
Made it do what it do
Punchin' in the clock, money in the box just to wear some rocks
Still graduated school
'Member I was bummy, now I'm gettin' money, cookin' up with Sonny
Man, they said that I would lose, yeah
So I had to bust a move, oh, yeah, yeah
Mama cried on Christian really sittin' in the back seat
I was only tryna make our sister way too happy
I know you probably love me more if I had stayed a athlete
So I been runnin' through these f*ckin' hundreds like a track meet
Then ever since we fell out, I ain't kept up with my acne
I been solo-doloin', ain't had them on the back knee
Heard word around the city, man, some niggas wanna whack me
Four hundred, Taylor totin', tell a nigga, "Come get at me," yeah
I'm in the game now
I took my brothers out the ghetto and I ain't changed now
I love they mothers like no other through my veins now
Neck clutter when I rock a couple chains now
Best cover when I tell you that the gang slide
Next bust'll come through bustin' at the same time
Bad bustin', 'bout two hundred, set the lane fire
Chest burnin' from his burner, I just thank God
I can't do nothin' but thank God for the new shoes
I ain't have a clue what to do
Gotta thank God for a lot, I ain't on the block
Nigga better stop, who is you?
They gon' talk a lot when you not on top, now I'm hot
Now a nigga cop what he wanna cop off the lot
Why they worry 'bout what a nigga got? Ayy (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Bitch, I ain't worried 'bout you
Never had a lot, but I made a cop and I made it pop
Made it do what it do (yeah)
Punchin' in the clock, money in the box just to wear some rocks
Still graduated school (yeah)
'Member I was bummy, now I'm gettin' money, cookin' up with Sonny
Man, they said that I would lose, yeah
So I had to bust a move, oh, yeah, yeah
Writer: Cedric R. Hailey, Christian M Todd, Donald Earle Degrate, Sonny Corey Uwaezuoke
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC
Performed By: 2KBABY
Length: 2:56
Written by: Cedric R. Hailey, Christian M Todd, Donald Earle Degrate, Sonny Corey Uwaezuoke