Andrew Miller - Nothing Lyrics

My guy Andrew, bro, what's good with you, big dog
I see you out here killing motherf*cking rap shit
Listen, bro, keep your foot on they necks
Keep applying pressure, dog

You feel me
You ain't nothing, homie
Nah, you ain't nothing
You ain't nothing, homie

Why is you fronting
You ain't nothing, homie
Why is you stunting
You ain't nothing, look

You ain't nothing but the scuff on the bottom of my shoes
If you prepared to play, you better be prepared to lose
Put your hands up
Now run me those jewels

So much drip on me, I can fill a thousand pools
I like real gold, not the ones made for fools
This ain't club music, better step off of your stool
I don't know what you thought, my brother, but we ain't cool

You used to be the one that used to brush me off in school
But now that I'm up, you want to hang out and be friends
I ain't five years old, homie
I ain't tryna play pretend, nah

I ain't trying to play pretend with you, bro
This is real life I be on my grind
Better get it together before you out of time
Better stay out my lane get yourself back in line

They can tell I coming through the beats
They feel the signs
I am the sign, homie
Tell them when to stop and go

You rappers like a drunk, cause all you do is blow and go
I told myself that I'd be famous at the age of four
And now I'm twenty, and I'm closer than ever before
I'm like a locksmith, the way I'm opening the doors

You gotta feel every word so the caption is closed
And when I'm done with you, make sure the casket is closed
Cause it's gonna be a murder scene, anatomy exposed

Yeah, got it out the mud, I'm the people's champ
And they throwing shade, looking like a lamp
Running to the money till I catch a cramp
Had to tighten up and I ain't got a clamp

White boy, ballin' hard, feel like Steve Nash
Passing everyone as I breeze past
Money coming slow, better think fast
Running game like a Sega, that's a dream cast

I done beat the odds, how I came up
Shit you talk is made up, owe me better pay up
Bitch, I never gave up, on her face like makeup
Stacking money, save up, balling better lace up

Huh, all I do is ball and flex
Like I got a pencil, how I draw a check
Tell your bitch I want all the neck
Money call my phone, so I call it back

No cap, lowercase
Running to the money, you can't slow my pace
Cartier's on, that's that poker face
I'm at they neck like a choker chain

Dead stock with a headlock
My money young, make your bed rock
More bars than a cell block
In your bitch's head like a dreadlock

I'm dropping out like I'm Kanye
Three racks in my pocket, bitch I feel like Andre
I outlast any outcast
And I count racks coming up like a bounce pass