AKA - Sim Dope Lyrics

Hands in the air if you been broke
I see millionaires making bread, that's the end goal
Private jet, Benzo, can't see through the window
So if I die, I pray to God he bring me back as Sim Dope

Sim Dope, 911 rim spokes
Back when it was college I would hook him up the crib notes
Teachers say he got a problem dealing with the tempo
But you ain't even f*cking with his gym clothes

Don't see the roof, that's German auto
J.C Le Roux, one thousand bottles
I see the truth, this the land of promise
Call me the proof, I'm just being honest

Hands in the air if you been broke
I see millionaires making bread, that's the end goal
Private jet, Benzo, can't see through the window
So if I die, I pray to God he bring me back as Sim Dope

Sometimes I look at my mother, I think of what could've been
Imagine building a palace that's only fit for a queen
My daddy climbed up the ladder until he ran out of steam
Reputation was damaged but never ran out of dreams
That's why I talk in my sleep
Fortunately my esteem is awkward for people who awfully talkative in the street
Especially if all that talking is cheap
I got the recipe, making peace with my enemies, my conscious is clean

Don't see the roof, that's German auto
J.C Le Roux, one thousand bottles
I see the truth, this the land of promise
Call me the proof, I'm just being honest

Hands in the air if you been broke
I see millionaires making bread, that's the end goal
Private jet, Benzo, can't see through the window
So if I die, I pray to God he bring me back as Sim Dope

Yeah, I'm in this bitch with Mandela
They pull my name out the envelope, you should f*ck with the winners
You got some buzz from your single, but that's just luck for beginners
I'm coming back in another life just to stunt on your children, uh
Drop top for the summer time
Proposing this toast, focused on goals like I'm number 9
Every one of these flows my foes gon' analyze
Eyes closed while I fantasize
Nice clothes and my jewelry ice cold like Savanna Dry
Power moves being strategized
So if I die, I'm leaving behind some real dough
Or bring me back as Sim Dope, there's still hope

Hands in the air if you been broke
I see millionaires making bread, that's the end goal
Private jet, Benzo, can't see through the window
So if I die, I pray to God he bring me back as Sim Dope