Future - High Off Life Lyrics
Trapped in the Sun
Mine all mine
Wander
Away we go
Over lines
I won't let go, she knows why
She feeds my soul
She feeds my mind
Sun in the morning
My sun, every morning
My star of the evening
My moon, always beaming
She loves to watch me go
She hates to watch me go
I hate to watch her go
I love to watch her go
That's 'cause I always know, she's always coming home
That's 'cause she always knows, I'm always coming home
Sun in the morning
My sun every morning
My star of the evening
My moon always beaming
Sun in the morning
My sun every morning
She feeds me daily soul, she feeds me daily soul
She talks right to my soul
(Chorus)
She feeds me daily soul, she feeds me daily soul
She talks right to my soul
Writer: John Gerrit Welmers, Samuel Thompson Herring, William Cashion
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
HiTek Tek
(ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob) Freeband Gang
Yeah, yeah
Hi-tech Tech, yeah, yeah
Big ol' jet, yeah, yeah
Big ass TEC, yeah, yeah
Big ass bitch, yeah, yeah
Thick lil' shit, yeah, yeah
I'm gettin' my money, yeah, yeah
I'm gettin' this rich, yeah, yeah
Straight out the crib, yep
I'm straight out the trench, yep
I'm straight out the trench, yep
I'm straight out the trench, yep
The trench of the trench (Woo)
The drank on the floor
I started out poor
But not no more
Hop in that go, go, go, Ghost, I'm on go-mode
We drivin' every single car you want, send in the dope, ho
She like to ride when I go jugg, I got a dope ho
Make me sing to your bitch, K-Ci, JoJo
Every day, every night, go to the moon
All of my niggas geeked up in the room
Paradise, shoot my one and two
Astronaut takin' off, I got the proof, yeah
Perky medics, yeah, yeah
Head from Becky, yeah, yeah
Gold baguetties, yeah, yeah
Gold Prezi', yeah, yeah
I be down in Houston like Kareem, I'm a Rocket
Drank the drank and popped a couple beans, now I'm cocky
Came through the game and took that shit like I was robbin'
Chain rings, earrings, please proceed with cautions
Courtside, I'm sittin' at the game with a Glock in my pocket
All my niggas bang, brr, clear out the cartridge
Go inside of Chanel store and start poppin'
I told you, I'm rollin' off a bean like Scotty
Yeah, yeah
Hi-tech Tech, yeah, yeah
Big ol' jet, yeah, yeah (big ol' jet)
Big ass TEC, yeah, yeah
Big ass bitch, yeah, yeah (big ass bitch)
Thick lil' shit, yeah, yeah
I'm gettin' my money, yeah, yeah (Hi-Tech Tech)
I'm gettin' this rich, yeah, yeah
I'm straight out the crib
I'm straight out the trench, yep
I'm straight out the trench
I'm straight out the trench, yep
The trench of the trench, woo
The drank on the floor
I started out poor
But not no more
Yeah, I fill up a cup with that red and I know it might kill me (Hi-Tech Tech)
I throwed on the animal print and it got me bougie
I sold my coke in the cold, the sweater was Coogi
I can't forget my bros, we make a zoovie
I am not supposed to be f*ckin' these bitches, they jockin' my dick on the low
I got her on lean, woo, I got her on beans, woo
She down to my team, man, I'm cuttin' up a ring, man
Fully loaded magazines, shout out to the gangland
And I can't even sleep
I been already geeked for seven days
Put the wood on that Banshee
I position her more than seven ways
I got black cards and Visas, I'm gettin' paid
I'm sittin' in the dark, ain't got shades
Take all the tablets and go to space
Hi-tech Tech, yeah, yeah
Hi-tech Tech, yeah, yeah
Big ol' jet, yeah, yeah (big ol' jet)
Big ass TEC, yeah, yeah
Big ass bitch, yeah, yeah (big ol' bitch)
Thick lil' shit, yeah, yeah
I'm gettin' my money, yeah, yeah (Hi-Tech Tech)
I'm gettin' this rich, yeah, yeah
Hi-tech Tech
Hi-tech Tech, Hi-Tech Tech (yeah, yeah)
Hi-tech Tech (yeah, yeah)
Writer: Nayvadius Wilburn, Jacob Canady
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Touch the Sky
(Southside on the track, yeah)
Yeah
Got the 'Rari outside, got the Maybach outside, no lie, no lie
Got the 'Rari outside, got the Maybach outside, no lie, no lie
In the penthouse in my room, I can touch the sky, yeah, yeah
I just woke up with a dime, holdin' a nine, yeah, yeah
I just stuffed a Backwood with a three-five, yeah, yeah
Off the top rope, Andre the Giant, yeah, yeah
I just put a brand new Phantom on my credit card
I just bought the Rollie store with my credit card
Put two hundred racks on my bitch debit card
I put two hundred racks on your whole squad
I'm a big time nigga, I don't owe no nigga
Cut a five million-dollar check, I blow that nigga
Twenty million-dollar liquid, I can show that nigga
Aquafina on me drippin', you can't pour this, nigga
I perform with my drum, you must don't know me, nigga
Got a thoroughbred bitch down in Texas, nigga
I can tell she got a man from how she text me, nigga
I been flexin' all my life, you can't finesse me, nigga
I been in the bando with the chick
Buy Jimmy Choo sandals 'cause I'm rich
I put the pool on the top floor
These thot hoes, they free promo
I'ma keep my ho in Chanel, Coco
Puttin' butterfly doors on a four-door
Yeah, I been in the bando with the chick
Buy Jimmy Choo sandals 'cause I'm rich
I come through turbo, hit the switch (come through turbo)
You only do pink diamonds when you rich (you only do pink diamonds)
I threw cotton candy diamonds on my bitch, yeah yeah
Got the Rollie face same Kansas City, yeah yeah
I'm just a walkin' drug store, don't you be mindin' me
I just spend ten thousand on a 'fit and I got that iron on me
I'm on a whole 'nother wave, I'm surfin' in a new Ferrari
I just been sippin', I'm drippin', I'm spillin', I'm shittin' on everybody
I got ten kilos on my wrist, yeah, yeah
Outer space froze, cold in my pics, yeah, yeah
Platinum ice, rose gold on my wrist, yeah, yeah
I got a closet for a condo
Got the 'Rari outside, got the Maybach outside, no lie, no lie
In the penthouse in my room, I can touch the sky, yeah, yeah
I just woke up with a dime, holdin' a nine, yeah, yeah
I just stuffed a Backwood with a three-five, yeah, yeah
Off the top rope, Andre the Giant, yeah, yeah
I've been in the bando with the chick
Buy Jimmy Choo sandals 'cause I'm rich
Writer: Joshua Luellen, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Solitaires
(Wheezy outta here)
Solitary diamonds, solitary jewels
With a bitch that's shinin', lookin' like the moon
Said she wanna party, wanna let it loose
Bustin' out my back room, she ain't out the loop
It's jumpin', let it in
Ooh
I put it out, they come in
Ooh
Came up off a brick
Bought a Richard Mille, my new watch don't tick
Drippin' in Louis V, made a movie, and Prada another film
It's the Don Dada, I stand this Lamborghini on one wheel
Twelve o'clock, and I got my gun clocked, and I'm on one pill
Monday all the way to Sunday, pick a time to drill
Gettin' my lettuce, I'm gettin' my paper, I'm gettin' my trees, woo, woo
One thousand percent, keep it one thousand with me woo, woo (yeah)
Started with my squad, so I can't chill
Money over bitches, gotta play the field
Coronavirus diamonds, you can catch the flu
Trap in bandos, walk in Jimmy Choo
Solitaries made a rockstar too
Solitary diamonds, I can show proof
That these bitches on me just like a pop group
I got racks on my mind and I can't lose
And I got solitary diamonds, solitary jewels
Watches full of baguettes, pockets full of blue (yeah)
Solitary diamonds, solitary jewels
Girls gettin' naked in my swimming pool (yeah)
I wanna take care you and your friends (yeah)
Ooh
I put it out, they come in
Ooh (it's lit)
Radical decisions what we always choose
All the dogs is hungry and they sellin' food (yeah)
Every time we do it, tend to hit the news
I don't want it if it's stiff or if that pussy loose
Runnin', know they gunnin' 'cause I got the juice
I been thuggin' since a youngin, brought that work to school
Floodin' all the hunnids, we done broke the pool
All this money bring the power, I didn't make the rules (let's go)
Sipping on codeine got my screws loose
Making all this money got my screws loose (yeah)
Ridin' Lamborgini made her pussy juicy
Grippin' on the wheel, playin' in her pussy
Diamonds my neck been going crazy
I think I need to see a psychiatrist (ooh)
Living in the streets and the gutter raised me
I know how to sell narcotics
When they let us off of lock', man, we gon' make that shit pop
Been humpin' wifey for so long, she got a limp when she walk
Got seven drops in four spots, I get to pick where I live
In the back they playin' twinsies like a Hugh Hefner zoo
On my teeth, these diamonds twinkle, in her legs a Jacuzzi
I be tweakin' every day, I got some screws missin'
I keep a Air Max pump on me, no, not my 270s (yeah)
And they know just where I be, it's like I'm 713 (yeah)
Havin' money on this side is not the conversation (yeah, yeah)
Solitary diamonds for my dog inside, he waited, yeah (straight up)
Solitary diamonds, solitary jewels
With a bitch that's shinin', lookin' like the moon
Said she wanna party, wanna let it loose
Bustin' out my back room, she ain't out the loop
I wanna take care you and your friends
Ooh
I put it out, they come in
Ooh
Writer: Jacques Webster, Michael G Dean, Nayvadius Wilburn, Wesley Tyler Glass
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Ridin Strikers
Riding strikers
Hotbox shit, it's that hotbox shit (Pluto)
I'm gonna cut 'em (you got somethin' to bring)
Riding strikers good, yeah
Riding strikers in the hood, nigga
Riding strikers through your hood (ridin' strikers through), yeah
Ridin' strikers through your hood, yeah
F*ck a title, you got that rifle, you need to ride striker
Go for the Ferrari, a Spider, man, I had to ride striker
I taught my young niggas how to slide, go and get a striker
I put my young bitch in a G-Wag' she ridin' strikers
I go to Jamaica then tag 'em with a hundred snipers
I dip the ice and go (woo), I step out icy, frozen (woo)
I hit professional (woo), I have deja vu, I know (woo)
I'm gettin' my decimals (woo), I'm going digital
Spazzin' in Jimmy Choo, bagged up plentiful
Tell me how I'm supposed to be sober in my interview? (Sober)
Last night I was growing up (I was in Fendi too)
Took flight, I've been going up (that's a ritual)
Passport and we going up like some animals
Addied up and I'm gassed up, change the temperature
Triple rows, tall hoes, they identical
Minute Maid, Hi-Tech splash (goin' crazy)
Drug raids got me cold, got me cocky (ah)
Can't stand it, won't enjoy life if it ain't toxic
Cuban links, walkin' on ice, I don't play hockey
I was trained standin' on Front Street and I'm saucy
High profile superstar, codeine coughing
Cop a Porsche, cop a Range Rover, it's King Jaffe
Kick a door, smokin' sherm sticks, take Oxys
Piss poor, we sticking together like (gang)
King Kong, I'm taking drugs out my body
Insane, inside my brain and my posse
Riding strikers good, yeah
Riding strikers in the hood, nigga
Riding strikers good, yeah
Ridin' strikers in the hood, nigga
F*ck a title, you got that rifle, you need to ride striker (striker)
Go for the Ferrari, a Spider, man, I had to ride striker (striker)
I taught my young niggas how to slide, go and get a striker
I put my young bitch in a G-Wag she ridin' strikers (strike)
Riding strikers good
(Riding strikers through your hood, yeah)
(Riding strikers through)
(Riding strikers through the hood, nigga)
(Yeah, riding strikers through your hood, yeah)
The police need your help in tracking down a suspect
In a bank robbery this morning on the city's north side
According to police, the suspect walked into the bank about nine this morning
Went straight to one of the tellers, handed over a note that said
"Put money in bag"
Huh, pouring up drank
Huh, now I'm robbin' me a bank
Huh, f*cking on foreign
Huh, that bitch with you ain't
Huh, whippin' up foreign
Huh, drive it like a tank
Huh, pouring up drank
Huh, 'bout to rob me a bank
Huh, smokin' on pressure
Huh, straight out a pound
Huh, crazy-ass shooter (crazy-ass shooter)
Huh, sprayin' in the crowd (sprayin' in the crowd)
Huh, kill 'em on sight
Huh, still go to trial
Huh, nigga get life
Huh, been scarred as a child
Huh (rob me a bank)
(Rob me a bank)
(Huh)
Writer: Jacob Canady, Joshua Luellen, Leland Tyler Wayne, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
One of My
Freebandz, mm
Yeah
Yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah)
One of my niggas got rich off bricks
One of my niggas got rich hittin' licks
One of my niggas got rich sellin' grass
One of my niggas got rich off swag
One of my niggas got rich off hoes
One of my niggas got rich off coke
One of my niggas be kickin' in doors
One of my niggas ain't got no soul
One of my niggas trappin' out his house
One of my niggas trappin' out a penthouse
One of my niggas don't talk, he a boss
One of my niggas come through, knock you off
One of my niggas drink syrup, no coughin'
One of my niggas be scamming, yeah
Bustin' checks, he the scammer of the year
One of my niggas comin' home in a year
One of my niggas got a body in here
One of my niggas on molly, need help
One of my niggas, he real when he rap
One of my niggas don't never play fair
One of my niggas be stalking the opps
He one of them niggas don't talk to the cops
One of my niggas turn a half to a block
One of my niggas got bands by the box
One of my niggas got rich off bricks
One of my niggas got rich hittin' licks
One of my niggas got rich sellin' grass
One of my niggas got rich off swag (one of my)
One of my niggas got rich off hoes
One of my niggas got rich off coke
One of my niggas be kickin' in doors (one of my)
One of my niggas ain't got no soul
Most of my niggas got rich nigga habits
Most of my niggas got rich nigga chains
Most of my niggas f*ckin' rich nigga bitches
Most of my niggas done sold cocaine
One of my niggas got rich off pills
Most of my niggas done got a few stains
One of my niggas be scamming, yeah
Bustin' checks, he the scammer of the year
One of my niggas comin' home in a year
(Home in a year, one of my)
One of my niggas got a body in here (one of my)
One of my niggas on molly, need help
One of my niggas got rich off bricks (bricks)
One of my niggas got rich hittin' licks (licks)
One of my niggas got rich sellin' grass (grass)
One of my niggas got rich off swag (swag)
One of my niggas got rich off hoes
One of my niggas got rich off coke
One of my niggas be kickin' in doors
One of my niggas ain't got no soul
Writer: Jacob Atl Jacob Canady, Nayvadius Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Posted with Demons
Yeah
I was tryna tell you, "be cool," 'cause I ain't never wanna see you go through it
I ain't even have to trap no more 'cause I was doing it too fluently
I told myself I would never rob nobody and then end up doin' it
(Who dat, Trell?)
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
You ain't did the shit I did
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
You ain't did the shit I did
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
You ain't did the shit I did
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
You ain't did the shit I did
All this dope I sold
I tell my real life, finna go cop me a Ghost
I was already ahead of the wave
Now I gotta go out and buy me a boat
Rich nigga f*ckin' on the baddest bitch
I still f*ck an average bitch
I be on some savage shit
Ran it up with this rappin' shit
I'm casually pimpin' these bitches
I don't give a f*ck if the bitch is Catholic
I give zero f*cks
You can worship the devil, bitch, just drop me these bricks
I got the preacher's daughter
Sellin' pussy, bitch gon' make me rich
I might've f*cked the lil' thot on the strength
Or because it was late and a nigga was lit (whoa)
Came off the block, I was just posted up
With all the demons and did what I did
Codeine, Wock', plastic Glock
Drop my top, pull off on a cop (skrrt, skrrt)
Broke a block, down to rock
Disturbin' the peace like I'm 'Cris
I'm not a average street nigga, stop frontin'
Puttin' diamonds on you, bitch
Codeine, Wock', plastic Glock
Killed the box, got sloppy top
I just wet this nigga, bitch
Codeine, Wock', plastic Glock
Broke a block, down to rock
Disturbin' the peace, like I'm 'Cris
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
You ain't did the shit I did
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
You ain't did the shit I did
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
You ain't did the shit I did
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
All this dope I sold
I tell my real life, finna go cop me a Ghost
I was already ahead of the wave
Now I gotta go out and buy me a boat
Rich nigga f*ckin' on the baddest bitch
I still f*ck an average bitch
I be on some savage shit
Ran it up with this rappin' shit
I can't never forget when I was starvin', that shit make me sick
I wouldn't care if I never seened your face again, you crazy bitch
All this ice on, you can see through tint when it's just three percent
Black and stone, my diamonds on, Sylvester Stallone
Sylvester Stallone diamonds, yeah
No, these not the wrong diamonds
Sylvester Stallone diamonds, yeah
No, these not the wrong diamonds
(These not the wrong diamonds)
You can see with your eyes on your own
I done went against odds before
Makin' it, takin' it, they see the wrong
If the streets don't kill you first, nigga
It's gon' make you strong
I done came from out the dirty, nigga
Buried the money in the floor
I got racks on me, I'm froze
Rockin' tennis chains on you hoes
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
You ain't did the shit I did
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
You ain't did the shit I did
Came off the block, I was posted with demons
You ain't did the shit I did
Came off the block, I was posted with
You ain't did the shit I did
Writer: Gary Rafael Hill, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © STREAMCUT VENTURES LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Hard to Choose One
Yeah, it's Pluto
Pluto (yeah, Freebandz), you dig, you dig
Yeah (yeah, yeah)
Yeah (yeah, 808 Mafia)
Yeah, yeah (yeah, yeah)
Motor in the back with the trunk in the front
Smokin' on gas, three-five in a blunt
Poppin' new tags, it's one of a one
I got them chopsticks, ain't going to lunch
Came out the creek, had to drop off a ton
Made it off the streets, I came up from a crumb
Two thousand just for the shoes I put on
Spin out and do a three-sixty for nothin' (skrrt)
Freestylin' while I got kush in my lung
Crocodile Burberry, that's what I'm on (brrt, brrt)
Packed out the club, that's a quarter million (brrt, brrt)
High-priced fashion, Italian, Milan (fashion)
If she get attached, then I'm goin' on the run (she get attached)
Took the big batch and I can't feel my tongue (took the big batch)
Hundreds of baddies, it's hard to choose one (hundreds of baddies)
Green light the shooters, it's already done (brrt, brrt, brrt)
Green light the shooters, they already on you
Take a few Addies, then go in a coma
Takin' and rappin', them bales my diploma
Drivin' my space coupe, goin' to Daytona
Line 'round the corner like Ronald McDonald's
Count on my llama, you call me Obama
Whippin' that bird like the Number 1 Stunna
Put on reserve, she come when I want her
Hop in the vert, it go over two hundred
She kept it real with her, shout outs to London
I bought her Gucci, she bought me a chopper
Money and sex is bringin' me problems
But I'm at my best when I'm runnin' through models
Look at your rings, you done dipped 'em in vodka
Talkin' Emilio Pucci, I got 'em
Came out the trap, a hood nigga role model
Motor in the back with the trunk in the front
Smokin' on gas, three-five in a blunt
Poppin' new tags, it's one of a one
I got them chopsticks, ain't going to lunch
Came out the creek, had to drop off a ton
Made it off the streets, I came up from a crumb
Two thousand just for the shoes I put on
Spin out and do a three-sixty for nothin' (skrrt)
Freestylin' while I got kush in my lung
Crocodile Burberry, that's what I'm on (brrt, brrt)
Packed out the club, that's a quarter million (brrt, brrt)
High-priced fashion, Italian, Milan (fashion)
If she get attached, then I'm goin' on the run (she get attached)
Took the big batch and I can't feel my tongue (took the big batch)
Hundreds of baddies, it's hard to choose one (808 Mafia)
Green light the shooters, it's already done (brrt, brrt, brrt)
Crashed out on pills, but it's makin' me numb (let's go)
I paid the bill, you consider it done (pay the bill)
Trap in the field, made a mil' on my own (trap in the field)
Peel off the seal on that Hi-Tech I'm sprung (yeah)
Cash out on diamonds, Italian, Milan (cashin' out)
One hundred bad bitches havin' fun (what's up?)
Rollin' up X and I can't feel my arms
Platinum ice on me, it's clearer than Patron
Money and power, it got me on meds
Load up my rifle, I don't go to bed
Coppin' a Viper gon' make them upset
F*ckin' rich niggas gon' get you baguettes
Pussy was leakin', I f*cked on a jet
We made a bond to never forget
Cancel that ho, she tried f*ck up my check
Get in this Lambo', this not a Corvette (skrrt, skrrt)
Motor in the back with the trunk in the front
Smokin' on gas, three-five in a blunt
Poppin' new tags, it's one of a one
I got them chopsticks, ain't going to lunch
Came out the creek, had to drop off a ton
Made it off the streets, I came up from a crumb
Two thousand just for the shoes I put on
Spin out and do a three-sixty for nothin'
Freestylin' while I got kush in my lung
Crocodile Burberry, that's what I'm on (let's go)
Packed out the club, that's a quarter million
High-priced fashion, Italian, Milan (brrt, brrt, brrt)
If she get attached, then I'm goin' on the run
Took the big batch and I can't feel my tongue
Hundreds of baddies, it's hard to choose one
Green light the shooters, it's already done (hundreds of bad bitches)
Brrt, brrt
Hundreds of bad bitches
Hundreds of bad bitches
Hundreds of bad bitches
Hundreds of baddies, it's hard to choose one
Writer: Joshua Luellen, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Trillionaire
I was so high out my mind, I thought I wasn't gon' see tomorrow
Yeah
Stayin' ten toes down with my head up (whoa)
(Teezy on the beat) (Teezy on the beat)
Mafia the dream, with his gunshots
I was talkin' to, um, I was talkin' to Slime when I said, um
I think I asked him do he think, do he think I could do seven
Then he said "Bro, you f*ckin', is you f*ckin' crazy?" That nigga said, "Hell yeah"
Then he said some other shit behind that
Reportin' straight out of the slums (slums)
From rags to riches, I got me some bitches and I changed up how I come (come)
In a drought when your pockets got mumps (mumps)
These niggas believin' in nothin'
Ran up my sack, you know I ain't dumb
Wherever I'm goin', I pull up with somethin' (doot-doot-doot)
38, Atlanta, Lil' Haiti (Haiti)
Where I'm from, it's hard to make it (make it)
I'll never let 'em take it (take it)
Grammys, I was nominated (whoa)
Told that bitch that I'm leavin', so face it (face it)
Get a new ho and have me a baby (baby)
Out the jungle, I conquered and made it (I made it)
It still don't feel like I'm famous (famous)
Feel like they don't feel me now, yeah (they don't feel me now)
Fill it up, stunt, they see me now (yeah, I'm stunt, they see me now) yeah
I'm steps away, I can't stop now (I can't)
No, I won't let you waste my time (yeah)
Surrounded by some millionaires (oh-whoa)
And I know I'ma be one when I walk off
Feel like I can be a trillionaire (oh-whoa)
Yeah, I'ma be the one that they talk 'bout
Yeah
I'ma be the one they talk about
I'ma be the one they envy (yeah)
Hate it when you made it out the struggle
Love to see a nigga in the trenches (Pluto)
Went to sleep, had a few nightmares
Nigga just left off a mission
I'm the one paid my dues, dropped out of school, now I'm winnin'
I had a girl with some red hair, made a nigga feel like Chapo (Freebandz)
Just got off the phone with vato, know a young nigga gon' kill somethin'
I wanna get me a mil' ticket, my young nigga wanna get his murders up
Gotta go get me a million, spend half of it on convertibles
Jumpin' off the porch, no daddy, had to go and get mine out the gutter
Came up poor and ashy, now a nigga take care of my mother (swear)
Wish I had a cure on sickle cell, hate to see my sister suffer (got you)
You can never put a price on how much I love her
Surrounded by some millionaires (oh-whoa)
And I know I'ma be one when I walk off
Feel like I can be a trillionaire (oh-whoa)
Yeah I'ma be the one that they talk 'bout
Feel like they don't feel me now (like they don't feel me now)
Flexed up, stuntin', they see me now (yeah, I'm stuntin', they see me now) yeah
I'm steps away, I can't stop now (I can't)
No, I won't let you waste my time (yeah)
Represent out the gutter, yeah, yeah
Fell in love with my Cartier, yeah
Go to war 'bout my brother, yeah, yeah
I'll kill 'bout my brother, yeah, yeah
Used to sleep on the floor, yeah, yeah
Used to kick in the door, yeah, yeah
I finesse with the bros, yeah, yeah
Writer: Aaron Wright, Kentrell Deshawn Gaulden, Nayvadius Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Harlem Shake
Chopper make him do the Harlem Shake
(Wheezy Beats) Ayy
Trap money, ayy
Snow bunnies, ayy
Trap money, ayy
Push start, ayy
Racks tall, ayy
Never fall, ayy
Guitar, ayy
Play with racks, ayy
Trap star, ayy
Brett Favre, ayy
Money, cars, ayy
Cook hard, ayy
White chalk, ayy
Nonstop, ayy
Chopper make him do the Harlem Shake
YSL, ayy (ayy)
Saint Laurent, ayy (ayy)
Smart curve TV (what?)
Smart car, ayy (skrrt)
Grab the carbon, ayy (ayy)
Let it spark, ayy (brrat)
Grab a jet, ayy (ayy)
Let's depart, ayy (ayy, ayy, ayy)
AK swang, Glock blastin' hard, ayy (ayy, ayy)
Ayy, ayy, let that Lamborghini Urus talk, ayy (slatt, ayy)
The chopper gon' pop it, just feel it, kneel it, whoa, ayy (ayy)
Ayy, ayy, preach your talk with a cop, ayy
Trap money, ayy
Snow bunnies, ayy
Trap money, ayy
Push start, ayy
Racks tall, ayy
Never fall, ayy
Guitar, ayy
Play with racks, ayy
Trap star, ayy
Brett Favre, ayy
Money, cars, ayy
Cook hard, ayy
White chalk, ayy
Nonstop, ayy
Chopper make him do the Harlem Shake
Ray Charles, ayy
You can still see him shinin'
Drag racer, ayy
Came through the trap glidin'
Ran out of garbage space
Shit on you niggas, parquet
Ayy, all this gas on me, I open up a gas station
Spent a kilo on a mink coat, ayy, ayy, ayy
Lil' shawty want some Henny and coco, ayy, ayy
Racks everywhere, Alpo, ayy
Chopper make him do the Harlem Shake
Trap money, ayy
Snow bunnies, ayy
Trap money, ayy
Push start, ayy
Racks tall, ayy
Never fall, ayy
Guitar, ayy
Play with racks, ayy
Trap star
Brett Favre
Money, cars
Cook hard, ayy
White chalk, ayy
Nonstop, ayy
Chopper make him do the Harlem Shake
Har-har-har-harlem Shake, Harlem Shake
Writer: Jeffrey Williams, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn, Wesley Glass
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Up the River
Yeah, yeah, I'm tryna go back in time, watch 'em freeze up
I'm tryna, I'll smoke some herb, mamacita, yeah
Some things you say, I don't believe you, yeah
These just the ways of the world, but we still takin' chances, yeah
These just the ways of the world, but a nigga still livin' (Will-A-Fool)
The way I'm shinin' every day, you might get blinded
I'm out my mind every day, I feel like flyin'
If you don't f*ck with me, my nigga, I don't give a f*ck
I got some partners, they gon' send you up the river
I keep the same aesthetics, I got the fuel unleaded
I never forget it
Hit my numbers, watch it pile up, like it hit the Lotto
I can guarantee you I'm the one they got they style from
Times is gettin' hard and my money got older
Droppin' back the top, I got the world on my shoulder
Over and over, gotta pour up, gotta roll up
Gotta cover up my war wounds, no time to be sober
Flawless clarity blindin' my demons
You givin' life a new meanin' when you dreamin'
On the block, we was schemin', servin' fiends and
Rollin' dice on the cement, yeah
I came from nothin', no, I don't want from nothin'
They schemin' on my blessings, yeah
Could've been the devil, but maybe it was karma
Surrounded by the drama, oh, yeah
Need to get my conscience back
I can feel chronic in my chest
Sometimes I feel like I'm runnin' out of breath
Hustlin' until the sun come
Feelin' like the last Don left
The way I'm shinin' every day, you might get blinded
I'm out my mind every day, I feel like flyin'
If you don't f*ck with me, my nigga, I don't give a f*ck
I got some partners, they gon' send you up the river (dead)
I keep the same aesthetics, I got the fuel unleaded
I never forget it, never forget it
Ain't got no room for no mistakes, ain't no 'flauging
It's the road I took, it was cloudy, it was foggy
Pour a four and I'ma smoke up like I'm Marley
It was cold I remember days I was hungry
Ran up, gettin' paid, nigga gettin' cocky
Give a f*ck what a nigga say, pockets stocky
Came a long way from sellin' dope to ice rocky
All this platinum ice in the face, feelin' godly
When it's said and done, I'ma make a billion like Kylie
Bitches feed me grapes because I'm grateful and I'm stylee
Ain't got time to wait on niggas, I'm goin' to catch a body
Ain't got time to wait on niggas, I'm goin' to catch a body
The way I'm shinin' every day, you might get blinded
I'm out my mind every day, I feel like flyin'
If you don't f*ck with me, my nigga, I don't give a f*ck
I got some partners, they gon' send you up the river (dead)
I keep the same aesthetics, I got the fuel unleaded
I never forget it
Hit my numbers, watch it pile up, like it hit the Lotto
I can guarantee you I'm the one they got they style from
Writer: Nayvadius Wilburn, Willie Jerome Byrd
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Pray for a Key
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Used to pray for a key, ask God to send me a bird
Got the drop on my opps, I'm never gon' say a word
It's time to go berserk, I've been dying to go berserk
Grey Poupon, spillin' wine on your shirt
Went on a stain, after I hit it, had to go to church
Selling cocaine, cookin' up chickens, don't nobody care
And I done spent countless nights workin' inside the kitchen
Drivin' in the car, smoke an ounce in sixty minutes
Used to pray for a key, ask God to send me a bird
Got the drop on my opps, I'm never gon' say a word
It's time to go berserk, I've been dying to go berserk
Grey Poupon, spillin' wine on your shirt
Went on a stain, after I hit it, had to go to church
Selling cocaine, cookin' up chickens, don't nobody care
And I done spent countless nights workin' inside the kitchen
Drivin' in the car, smoke an ounce in sixty minutes
Smoking green loud, grape Gushers, yeah
Hangin' in the trap where I learned to hustle, yeah
Flex, I done doubled up my cup
Can't explain the way I grind, can't explain it (don't change up)
Sold nickles, sold dime bags, now I'm famous
Been posted up with the murder squad, we're all hangin'
Stayed low in the cut, had to fake it 'til a nigga made it (I did)
I'm the same nigga I've been, every single day, I'm gettin' faded
I was gettin' it in times ten when the police raided
Soon as I elevated, finessin' went elegant
They can't tell I was vicious when I was treacherous
I could've failed, I turned it up and went executive, yeah (Pluto)
Used to pray for a key, ask God to send me a bird
Got the drop on my opps, I'm never gon' say a word
It's time to go berserk, I've been dying to go berserk
Grey Poupon, spillin' wine on your shirt
Went on a stain, after I hit it, had to go to church
Selling cocaine, cookin' up chickens, don't nobody care
And I done spent countless nights workin' inside the kitchen
Drivin' in the car, smoke an ounce in sixty minutes
Order up six hundred bottles and sixty bitches
I been havin' bitches starstruck, don't get in your feelings
I been countin', oh yeah, I'ma keep it a trillion (yeah)
Changing up velocity because of curiosity
I had to kill the cat, I'ma tell the truth
Five-star bitch wearing all white and I got it (murder)
Kept it true, dressed her up like a stylist (murder)
Pick any car you want just like you hit the lottery (whoa, whoa)
Diamonds are forever for you, yes, an eternity (whoa, whoa)
Niggas can't be f*cking with you, they're just like burnin' me (woo)
Need a down bitch that can transport a kilo (super)
I need a down bitch, purse fat like a sumo (ayy)
Keep it one thousand
Used to pray for a key, ask God to send me a bird
Got the drop on my opps, I'm never gon' say a word
It's time to go berserk, I've been dying to go berserk
Grey Poupon, spillin' wine on your shirt
Went on a stain, after I hit it, had to go to church (go to church)
Selling cocaine, cookin' up chickens, don't nobody care
And I done spent countless nights workin' inside the kitchen
Drivin' in the car, smoke an ounce in sixty minutes
Used to pray for a key
Writer: Bryan Simmons, Isaiah Devoe, Nayvadius Wilburn, Sidney Ragland
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Too Comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Four or five hoes, stuff 'em in a Lamborghini, yeah
Swapped out of public housing, go and get a genie
Three, four stacks on a chinchilla beanie
Got a cup full of mud and I'm draped in Celine, yeah
Can't think for yourself, gotta think for the team, yeah
F*ck me like a star, gotta treat me like a king, yeah
Gotta roll with a chopper with a certain amount of bling, yeah
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Yeah, swerve in a bulletproof coupe, yeah
If I got to, I'll shoot out the roof, yeah
Turbo 63, shawty look blackanese
I keep it a G, Louis V
Came with a duffle bag full of mulah
I put the fragrance on you, Pucci
Got my attention, stay exclusive
Put her in the Rolls Royce and Givenchy
It's hard to stay sober when I'm spinnin'
It's hard to stay faithful when you winnin'
Showin' you're grateful and independent
F*ck all the danger
Spray all the strangers, you get too close
I said three hundred but the Range really four
You talkin' back to me, I'ma cut your throat
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable, yeah
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Four or five hoes, stuff 'em in a Lamborghini, yeah
Swapped out of public housing, go and get a genie
Three, four stacks on a chinchilla beanie
Got a cup full of mud and I'm draped in Celine, yeah
Can't think for yourself, gotta think for the team
I'm thinkin' colossal
I'm thinkin' 'bout flyin' the vibes out, goin' tropical
I know I'm impeccable
Seen what these niggas can do when that shit get federal
Caught in between, eatin' up a queen
Eatin' up a bean like vegetables
Step out on the scene livin' like a king
I know this game can be treacherous
They was thinkin' that it couldn't be done
And now it's tangible
Tell me how you get this comfortable
You're wearin' a wild animal
Simply did it because they said it couldn't be done
Then I went beyond
Can't even pay for my son
He on probation, they revoked his bond, yeah
Gotta light another blunt, yeah
I'm not a publicity stunt, yeah
I done been through more shit this month than a nigga been through in a lifetime
Cut a few niggas and bitches off
They were just wastin' my time
Pretty and fine, the way this girl designed
I hope she can read my mind
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable, yeah
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Four or five hoes, stuff 'em in a Lamborghini, yeah
Swapped out of public housing, go and get a genie
Three, four stacks on a chinchilla beanie
Got a cup full of mud and I'm draped in Celine, yeah
Can't think for yourself, gotta think for the team
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable, yeah
Bitch, don't get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Better not get too comfortable
Writer: Joshua Luellen, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
All Bad
It's Lil Uzi Vert
Let's go
Yeah (ayy, Brandon, man, why you do that?)
One, two, three, hello (whoa)
I won't never call back, if I hang up, I mean it, yeah
That mean it was all bad, I think I'm better off leavin', yeah
I don't have time for stressin', no more time for disagreements, no
Too many girls, what you call that?
Got 'em all in line, they fiendin', yeah
Yeah, I got too many type of girls, yeah
I'm from a whole different world, yeah
I got one shine in the light, yeah
She remind me of a pearl, yeah
I am way smarter than you, uh
You chase the nut like a squirrel, yeah
Drinkin' that pineapple juice, yeah
I throw it up, never hurl, yeah
My nickname Young Spend It
I get the money, get that by the plenty (whoa)
Used to go to Starlets to see K Benji, uh
Now I got YellowDol on me (me)
You can't get this style for free
Look at me, uh, bad bitch on me
Yeah, my bitch rock all Fenty
Got a bitch look just like RiRi (what else?)
Christian Dior all on my feet
Pull up a suit, that shit a three-piece
That girl say she a vegan, but I swear
That girl still know how to eat meat
Why you keep talkin' about leavin' me?
I ain't never been to DR
And I ain't never been to the Republics
On a long ass flight, can't get no sleep
Broke ass nigga can't talk to me
That's the reason why I put diamonds in my teeth
I get money for so long that I'm countin' this paper in my dream
Everything I get turn to brûlée
So your bitch pull up 'til I make her cream
And you know I do this shit just for myself
But you know I do this shit just for my team
I won't never call back, if I hang up, I mean it, yeah
That mean it was all bad, think I'm better off leavin', yeah
I don't have time for stress, I don't have time for disagreements, yeah
Too many girls 'posed to call back, I got 'em all in line, they fiendin', yeah
I got too many different type of girls, yeah
I'm from a whole different world, yeah
I got one shine in the light, uh
She remind me of a pearl, yeah
I am way smarter than you, uh
You chase a nut like a squirrel, yeah
Drinkin' that wine, off a two, uh
I throw it up, never hurl, yeah (oh my God)
I got too many type of girls, yeah
I got a whole lot of flavors, yeah
F*ck around, f*ck on my neighbor's friend
I think she just might been Arabian
I already fixed me a visa, yeah
She eat it up, know I'm a beast
I know I been leanin', I know she been dreamin'
I can make her dreams come true, yeah
But that don't mean I blew off her roofs
I drip drip, made the pussy get loose
Might be in a Tom panini suits
And she got Cha-nay-nay on her too
When I'm in Tom Ford and I'm in the strip club
Can't let the cheap pussy get too close
I just spent twenty thousand dollars on my outfit
And I had a bitch pullin' up in the Ghost
Niggas see the wrist when it flick and it's froze
If I hang up, don't call back at all
Switched up the lines and I switched my broad
I'll never switch up on my dawg
I can tell the real from the fake and the fraud
One-three-hundo sit in the garage
Rather tell the truth, but I know it's gon' hurt
Had to put a little bitty bitch on a shirt, for sure-ski
I won't never call back, if I hang up, I mean it, yeah (for sure-ski)
That mean it was all bad, I think I'm better off leavin', yeah
I don't have time for stress, I don't have time for disagreements, yeah
Too many girls 'posed to call back, I got 'em all in line, they fiendin', yeah
Yeah, I got too many type of girls, yeah
I'm from a whole different world, yeah
I got one shine in the light, yeah
She remind me of a pearl, yeah
I am way smarter than you, uh
You chase the nut like a squirrel, yeah
Drinkin' that pineapple juice, yeah
I throw it up, never hurl, yeah
I won't never call back, if I hang up, I mean it, yeah
That mean it was all bad, oh my God
I don't have time for stress, no more time for disagreements, no
Too many girls, what you call that? (Let's go)
I got too many different type of girls, yeah (whoa)
I'm from a whole different world, yeah
I got one shine in the light, uh
She remind me of a pearl, yeah
I am way smarter than you, uh
You chase the nut like a squirrel, yeah
Drinkin' that wine, off a two, uh
I throw it up, never hurl, yeah
Writer: Nayvadius Demun Wilburn, Symere Woods
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Outer Space Bih
Yeah, California ridin', whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah
Rocking icy watches, whoa, whoa, whoa
California ridin', whoa, whoa, whoa
Bad lil' hottie, whoa whoa, whoa
And she know Pilates, whoa, whoa, whoa
Rocking icy watches, whoa, whoa, whoa
California ridin', whoa, whoa, whoa
Pineapple Tropicana, outer space bitch
I bought the Presi' plain and gave it a face lift
Would have cheated at 3 P.M., smash your bitch on day shift
Gotta always keep me a ten, whoa, whoa, whoa
She got f*cked in the back of my Benz, whoa, whoa, whoa
I was already on I-10 with the Lord, Lord, Lord
Got a pound on the backseat, I'ma drivin' drug store
Money stretchin', elastic
We buy them AP's out the plastic
Man, they got my Sky-Dweller out the casket
Gotta make these niggas pay taxes
Spent 30K on one jacket
We send them bitches 'round the atlas
I told her do it 'til she gaggin'
Rocking icy watches, whoa, whoa, whoa
California ridin', whoa, whoa, whoa
Bad lil' hottie, whoa whoa, whoa
And she know Pilates, whoa, whoa, whoa
Rocking icy watches, whoa, whoa, whoa
California ridin', whoa, whoa, whoa
Pineapple Tropicana, outer space bitch
I bought the Presi' plain and gave it a face lift
She was attached to me like fleas, what it do?
White diamonds, but they look light blue
I always rep my family, I respect them brothers 'cause I got juice, too
I swear to God, he didn't die, he eatin' chicken soup
I'm Shaq size in the field, how I feel
Those bitch, I leave them hoes in tears
A mad scientist with the chronic in his grip
I got like two G-Wagens in my ears
Man, I've been heavyweight, f*ck, for some years
I dedicate everything, she feel it in her rear
Man, I ain't never gonna change I'm worth a hundred mill
We gon' make them niggas mad when them checks clear, yeah
Rocking icy watches, whoa, whoa, whoa
California ridin', whoa, whoa, whoa
Bad lil' hottie, whoa whoa, whoa
And she know Pilates, whoa, whoa, whoa
Rocking icy watches, whoa, whoa, whoa
California ridin', whoa, whoa, whoa
Pineapple Tropicana, outer space bitch
I bought the Presi' plain and gave it a face lift
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Writer: Cedric Jerome Jobe Jr, Dwan Lecurtis Jaquan Avery, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Accepting My Flaws
Was there to see all of the real raw shit, but you ain't stay
Well, I got, kept it all to myself, you know what I mean?
It's understandable
You know exactly who a motherf*cker is, though
You know what I'm saying?
You know exactly who a motherf*cker is
You could've been right here with a motherf*cker
But you ain't wanna be right here with a motherf*cker
How the f*ck you gon' look at me now and try to holler at me like we motherf*ckin' friends?
You know we ain't no motherf*ckin' friends
Yeah, nigga
You know how I f*ckin' get it
I know I ain't perfect, you know what I'm sayin'?
Perfect
That's my rider, nigga (808 Mafia)
Shawty, ride with me
Lord, forgive me, I've been on a rampage
Grim Reaper ridin' in the Rolls Royce, yeah, yeah
Spent a day to sober up, then I popped me one up
I can't pop up when I want with her, she popular
I've been tryna fight my demons, I've been tryna fight my cup
I always tell her she my therapy, I told her it was rough
She acceptin' all my flaws, I got diamonds with the cut
I've been sufferin' withdrawals, missin' out on real love
Different, you a angel, true to me
They gon' try to convince me that it's different
But I know, it's in my spirit and I can feel it, yeah
She don't bring up when these bitches bein' miserable and typical
Take my blood, baby, we goin' digital
Thousand dollar ski boots by Perry Ellis
And I don't plan on taking no ski trip, they even drip (woo)
Chanel fanny pack out in Egypt, ain't no reason
Gucci bucket hat for all my heathens
Temporary distractions, ain't no grievin' 'cause they reachin'
Copy and they clone what I'm feedin', they be thievin'
China white in my home, be strategic, I gotta feed ya
Grind up on my own 'cause I see how they mistreat me
Don't you let 'em turn you on me, I see it, I can peep it
Pill like white Patron, I can see it, you conceited
Talkin' on the phone, and yeah, my tone mischievous
Plastic or the chrome, whatever we need to keep us heated
Canary yellow stone, girl, shine on my demons
I feel it in my bones when you takin' out my semen
I purchased a couple Cashmere sweaters this evening
Take you for a walk in the park like a deacon
Half a ticket, pullin' up on you and mamacita
Give you the keys in her face to show her how I treat you
I'm takin' you out on dinner dates, got Franklins like Aretha
Trained in the war zone, codeine in my one liter
Pain in my attitude, it's vicious and it's lethal
Came off the avenue and ran into a diva
Brokenhearted, baby had me down, had to get you
You out the garden, baby, I'm from the jungle with the leeches
Clouded my lungs up and I slowly started speakin'
Rain, thunderin', showin' you grace for this meetin'
Givin' you compliments throughout that day and the weekend
Fall in love with revenge, hopin' that'll kill my demons
Sittin' out on my porch, I'm in disbelief
Give me glory, give me Lori, that's victory
I'm gonna drop your name, is it chemistry?
F*ck this money and fame if it's meant to be
Like a rock star showin' up at a symphony
Rock hard, pissin' on my enemy
F*ck 'em all, we don't show 'em sympathy
Her favorite color blue, I bought her Tiffany
Out the trap spot, I got my dope degree
They persuaded me, they gon' try to persuade you, believe
Had laid it and played it and stayed in it for weeks
Mistakes like earthquakes, they can't break us a piece
I'm not Catholic but had to have a talk with the priest
Acrobatic flips, gettin' European cash 'cross the sea
It's so radical, automatical, I'm knowin' we elite
Fascinated by the lifestyle, you know it bring greed
Fascinated by your feistiness, okay
Fascinated over your crisis, it's warfare
When we roll one, we converse, we like orphans
Coast to coast, float the ocean like a starfish
Check my post, I'ma toast to the heartless
That's why I'm prayin' for better days on this continent
I don't need a ghost to write my promises
You boost my confidence
Lord, forgive me, I've been on a rampage
Grim Reaper ridin' in the Rolls Royce, yeah, yeah
Spent a day to sober up, then I popped me one up
I can't pop up when I want with her, she popular
I've been tryna fight my demons, I've been tryna fight my cup
I always tell her she my therapy, I told her it was rough
She acceptin' all my flaws, I got diamonds with the cut
I've been sufferin' withdrawals, missin' out on real love
Writer: Joshua Luellen, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Last Name
This ain't a diss song, this a real song (DY Krazy)
Nigga, we ain't runnin' from no responsibilities
I take care of families
I'm embarrassed over this mess that I done caused
I can't go to sleep, I'm paranoid
And it's way too many homicides
Bought a hunnid guns, got my niggas sliding
F*cked the bitch once, now she wanna cry
Snitches told the Feds, I had an alibi
Brokenhearted, f*ck my bitch every night
I don't know her name, she wanna have my child
Laughing to the bank, got me runnin' wild
Numb to the pain, so I keep a smile
Gotta keep it stashed up for the trial
Material intentions got her playing foul
I'm in rare form like a hyena runnin' wild
All the opps getting gunned down
I can't go to sleep, I'm paranoid
And it's way too many homicides
Bought a hunnid guns, got my niggas sliding
F*cked the bitch once, now she wanna cry
Snitches told the Feds, I had an alibi
Brokenhearted, f*ck my bitch every night
I don't know her name, she wanna have my child
Laughing to the bank, got me runnin' wild
Numb to the pain, so I keep a smile
I lost connections to the streets and I was in denial
I seen a grown man shed tears 'cause he lost his trial
I said, the streets a crazy feeling just to lose a child
Have a one-on-one with God, yeah, it been a while
I woke up paranoid off drugs, I said, "I'm tired now"
I answer my phone in the middle of the nigh like, "Who done died now?"
Knowing I'm involved, but we gon' slide back when it's dying down
I don't know who opps no more, you look crazy, I'm firing rounds
I love the streets, it's a portion of me
I came from nothing to "The Voice of the Streets"
I got blood in the streets
The way he died, I advised he died in his sleep
That's the trenches, yeah, yeah
I can't go to sleep, I'm paranoid
And it's way too many homicides
Bought a hunnid guns, got my niggas sliding
F*cked the bitch once, now she wanna cry
Snitches told the Feds, I had an alibi
Brokenhearted, f*ck my bitch every night
I don't know her name, she wanna have my child
Laughing to the bank, got me runnin' wild
Numb to the pain, so I keep a smile
Public conversation got you touching clouds
Pop the wrong pill, hit the wrong dial
Ain't no visitation waiting for the trial
Took my last name, this ain't 'bout the child
Real classy jazzy, but don't do no trolling
Gotta treat you like dead when you playing bogus
See, Pluto you my brother, gotta stay focused
Sometimes I get in my feelings too, I wish I wore a Trojan
They tryna go viral off DMs that's why I'm antisocial
I'm just tryna teach the killers not to use emotion
I got a whole bitch, don't think about my old bitch
I'm just tryna live my life and catch this moment
I can't go to sleep, I'm paranoid
And it's way too many homicides
Bought a hunnid guns, got my niggas sliding
F*cked the bitch once, now she wanna cry
Snitches told the Feds, I had an alibi
Broken hearted, f*ck my bitch every night
I don't know her name, she wanna have my child
Laughing to the bank, got me runnin' wild
Numb to the pain, so I keep a smile
We ain't even get no sleep around this shit
You make a temporary decision
That caused permanent pain
Shit ain't goin' nowhere
(I can't go to sleep, I'm paranoid)
(And there's way too many homicides)
That hood mentality feel like you could go through anything
(Bought a hundred guns, got my niggas slidin')
(Laughin' to the bank, got me runnin' wild)
(Numb to the pain, so I keep a smile)
Writer: Durk Banks, Dwan Lecurtis Jaquan Avery, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Tycoon
(DY Krazy)
Starin' at the candle
Feel the pain on me, nigga, it don't matter
Got my currency exchanged, got my bands up
I'm a ty-tycoon, that's why they hate me (Wheezy outta here)
'Til they throw the sheets on me I'm goin' crazy
Got Balencis on my feet, they can't take me
I know I ain't gon' be deceased 'til I'm like eighty
I been gettin' so damn geeked, I been prayin'
I been chinchilla sheet wherever I'm stayin'
Took that Draco on a PJ, ain't playin'
I ain't goin', no, no, street's dangerous
Ain't got Actavis, so f*ck it, I had to red it
I sent hitters from everywhere, they had to dead it
You know my niggas, they bangin' the same color spaghetti
I got my transport up and I got my Getty
I'm gettin' her passport stamped, we goin' steady
They try to cut a nigga throat off with a machete
I know my lil' bro gon' kick a door and let that lead hit
I'm not a imposer so I'm tryna find a exit
They know it's a thousand cutters hittin' off if they come for me
Uno gang, twenty-seven, they gon' gun for me
ABK gon' broad day you and get it done for me
I'ma big dog, they a lil' son to me
I'm a ty-tycoon, that's why they hate me
'Til they throw the sheets on me I'm goin' crazy
Got Balencis on my feet, they can't take me
I know I ain't gon' be deceased 'til I'm like eighty
I been gettin' so damn geeked, I been prayin'
I been chinchilla sheet wherever I'm stayin'
Took that Draco on a PJ, ain't playin'
I ain't goin', no, no, street's dangerous
Fully auto on the seat, ain't let you take it
I ain't goin' no, no, I'ma spray it
Let my dogs off the leash, you gon' hate it
Twin choppers on me, they my favorite, yeah, yeah
Catch me rollin' in the Ghost, Patrick Swayze
Travelin' all across the coast for this gravy
Buyin' gold by the pound, I upgraded
I came from lil' Mexico, a nigga made it
Posted up outside the store, I'm the greatest
If you can make it out the bricks, that's amazin'
I got my gang from out the 6, ain't no tradin'
You know the side was two guns blazin'
I'm a ty-tycoon, that's why they hate me (I'm a ty-tycoon)
'Til they throw the sheets on me I'm goin' crazy ('til they throw the sheets on me)
Got Balencis on my feet, they can't take me (got Balencis on me)
I know I ain't gon' be deceased 'til I'm like eighty (yeah, ain't gon' be deceased, no)
I been gettin' so damn geeked, I been prayin' (yeah, I'm geeked, man, I'm geeked up)
I been chinchilla sheet wherever I'm stayin' (yeah, I'm chinchilla sheets up)
Took that Draco on a PJ, ain't playin' (took the Draco on a P, what up)
I ain't goin', no, no, street's dangerous (ain't goin' no, no, street's dangerous)
Yeah, I ain't goin' no, no
I ain't goin', no, no, street's dangerous
Trap
I ain't goin', no, no
Yeah, what you do?
I chinchilla all of my sheets wherever I'm stayin' (I chinchilla all of my sh-)
I been gettin' so f*ckin' geeked, I been prayin' (I been gettin' so f*ckin' geeked)
Got that Draco on a PJ, ain't playin' (took the Draco on a PJ)
I ain't goin', no, no, street's dangerous (I ain't goin', I ain't goin')
Starin' at the candle
Feel the pain on me, nigga, it don't matter
Get my currency exchange, got my bands up
Writer: Dwan Lecurtis Jaquan Avery, Nayvadius Demun Wilburn, Wesley Glass
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
100 Shooters
(Tay Keith f*ck these niggas up)
Yeah, The Wizzard
Woo
Perrier-Jouët, no tap water, this the real face
F*ck the bitch, broke her heart
She think we still dating
Three choppers sitting in the car, we playin' real safe
Fifty million dollars in cash, that's a cold case
Spent so much cash on Chanel, they wanna see ID
Bust down on her, Oochie Wally, I'm so Sincere
Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside
Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside
Yeah, uh, fifty mil' buried in my safe, that's a graveyard
F*cked the bitch, seen her with her man, I had to play it off
Dreamchasers with just like a label, we got A&Rs
Famous hoe, she threw me that pussy and I'ma slay her raw
Yeah, you are now welcome to the Player's Ball (you're welcome)
Whole lotta money lottery shit, yeah (whoa, whoa)
Hundred shooters, I can get your clique hit (whoa, whoa)
Get my dick suck in the Lambo while I stick shit
Big shit, baby, it's the big fish
Only VVS in my necklace and my wrist lit
I could wipe my ass with these hunnids, I'm the shit bitch
Shot up in her DM like James Harden, it went swish, swish
I'm sippin'
Perrier-Jouët, no tap water, this the real face
F*ck the bitch, broke her heart
She think we still dating
Three choppers sitting in the car, we playin' real safe
Fifty million dollars in cash, that's a cold case
Spent so much cash on Chanel, they wanna see ID
Bust down on her, Oochie Wally, I'm so Sincere
Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside
Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside
I've been gettin' richer and richer
Damn near piss on bitches
I've been thinking real vindictive
Kill the opps, f*ck their sisters
F*ck the Catholics, send my Christians
Semi-automatic, I got vision
Diamond cuts and they princess nigga
No rap, cap, gave away Bentleys nigga
Got a car for a watch, got a watch for a house
Send my automatic Glock, get you block washed out
Bad bitch tried to rape me, tried to pull my cock out
I got murder money, so this shit can get hostile
Perrier-Jouët, no tap water, this the real face
F*ck the bitch, broke her heart
She think we still dating
Three choppers sitting in the car, we playin' real safe
Fifty million dollars in cash, that's a cold case
Spent so much cash on Chanel, they wanna see ID
Bust down on her, Oochie Wally, I'm so Sincere (yeah yeah)
Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside
Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside
Nose out Then your clique come slide
Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside
Yeah, all my bitches treat me just like God
I told 'em jump bitch ask how high? (Oh really?) Yeah
Opps said that I'm a die, I ain't dead
One in the head, put it right to your head, bitch
Give a f*ck about the Feds, I ain't scared (no)
I ain't put down my gun, I ain't Craig (boom, boom, boom)
Yeah, dissin' on the 'Gram then I'm slidin' in his DM
Only time Doe busy playing 'round is with your BM, uh
Got a hundred shooters parked outside
And they gon' kill you when you walk outside (oh really?
Perrier-Jouët, no tap water, this the real face
F*ck the bitch, broke her heart
She think we still dating
Three choppers sitting in the car, we playin' real safe
Fifty million dollars in cash, that's a cold case
Spent so much cash on Chanel, they wanna see ID
Bust down on her, Oochie Wally, I'm so Sincere
Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside
Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside
(Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside)
(Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside)
(Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside)
(Got a hundred shooters sittin' outside)
Writer: Brytavious Chambers, Isam Mostafa, Kevin Gomringer, Nayvadius Wilburn, Robert Rihmeek Williams, Tim Gomringer
Copyright: Lyrics © ARENA MUSIC PUBLISHING, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Life is Good (Remix)
Workin' on the weekend like usual
Way off in the deep end like usual
Niggas swear they passed us, they doin' too much
Haven't done my taxes, I'm too turnt up
Virgil got a Patek on my wrist going nuts
Niggas caught me slipping once, okay, so what?
Someone hit your block up, I'd tell you if it was us
Manor house in Rosewood, this shit too plush
Say my days are numbered, but I keep wakin' up
Know you see my texts, baby, please say somethin'
Wine by the glass, your man a cheapskate, huh?
Niggas gotta move off my release day, huh?
Bitch, this is fame, not clout
I don't even know what that's about, watch your mouth
Baby got a ego twice the size of the crib
I can never tell her shit, it is what it is
Said what I had to and did what I did
Never turn my back on FBG, God forbid
Virgil got the Patek on my wrist doing front flips
Giving you my number, but don't hit me on no dumb shit
Workin' on the weekend like usual
Way off in the deep end like usual (like usual)
Niggas swear they passed us, they doin' too much
Haven't done my taxes, I'm too turnt up
Virgil got a Patek on my wrist going nuts
Niggas caught me slipping once, okay, so what?
Someone hit your block up, I'd tell you if it was us
Manor house in Rosewood, this shit too plush
It's cool, man, got red bottoms on
Life is good, you know what I mean? Like
Uh, hunnid thousand for the cheapest ring
On a nigga finger, lil' bitch, woo
I done flew one out to Spain to be in my domain
And Audemars'd the bitch, woo
Dropped three dollars on a ring
Call it Bentley truck, lil' bitch, woo
I was in the trap serving cocaine
I ain't been the same since, woo
Granny, she was standing right there
While I catch a play on a brick, woo
I make them lil' niggas go haywire
Taliban in this bitch, woo
I done been down bad in them trenches
Had to ride with that stick, woo
Who gave you pills? Who gave you that dust?
Pluto sent you on a lick, woo
Too many convicts
They enrolled me to play in this shit, woo
I'm tryna avoid nonsense
Get Osama sprayed in this bitch, woo
They had the candlelight, lighting it up
Nigga, anybody could get it, woo
I'm on a PJ lighting it up
Backwood full of sticky, woo
I'm tryna tote that Draco in London
And it's an extended, woo
They gotta stretch a nigga out
We gon' die for this shit, woo
Yeah, I ride for my niggas
I lie to my bitch, woo
We some poor, high-class niggas
Made it, we rich, yeah
I was at the bando
Got a penthouse for a closet, woo
It's like a chandelier
On my neck, my wrist, woo
I got pink toes
They talk different languages, woo
Got Promethazine in my blood and Percocet
Yeah, hunnid thousand for the cheapest ring
On a nigga finger, lil' bitch, woo
I done flew one out to Spain to be in my domain
And Audemars'd the bitch, woo
Dropped three dollars on a ring
Call it Bentley truck, lil' bitch, woo
I was in the trap serving cocaine
I ain't been the same since
Racks by the ton I call up Serena
I go tremendo for new fettuccini
All fact though, clarity pinky
All fact though, we order up the Fiji
I'm in the loop with the voo
I'm in the loop with the woo
Which one of you working?
I put your face on the news
I put the pussy on the shirt
After I murk, then make 'em go shoot up the hearse
Cost me a quarter bird
Nigga it's worth it, and you a maniac
A f*cking alien, how you splurgin'?
Got that kitty cat, I'm having fun with that
Goin' Birkin
Yeah, hunnid thousand for the cheapest ring
On a nigga finger, lil' bitch, woo
I done flew one out to Spain to be in my domain
And Audemars'd the bitch, woo
Dropped three dollars on a ring
Call it Bentley truck, lil' bitch, woo
I was in the trap serving cocaine
I ain't been the same since
(Hunnid thousand for the cheapest ring on a nigga finger, lil' bitch)
(Hunnid thousand for the cheapest ring on a nigga finger, lil' bitch, yeah)
(Hunnid thousand for the cheapest ring on a nigga finger, lil' bitch, uh)
(Hunnid thousand for the cheapest ring on a nigga finger, lil' bitch)
Writer: Aubrey Drake Graham, Darius Hill, Mathias Daniel Liyew, Nayvadius Wilburn, Ozan Yildirim
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Anthem Entertainment