Life is hard with everybody trying to hold ya back wondering
When the storm blowing over
Ask for help family friends they don't know ya
While the winter getting colder
Weight was on ya shoulders
Everybody think it's cherry Coca Cola
Shit ain't sweet but I treat it like fruit roll ups
Got her dancing like Drizzy in Controlla
Kinda dizzy off what's inside the soda
Smoking gas like you a automotive
Taking shots like you was Otto Porter
Now I smoke a ounce was a quarter
But I'm picking up the pace
Thinking about mistakes
Rolling up something sticky like some tape
All you bitches that's in line gotta wait
You can see I'm on a grind like I skate
People try to steal my shine but they can't
And they hate but they won't bust a grape
Making weight and these rappers out of shape
What it take cuz I'm great no debate
They just fake and I am what they ain't
Getting high and they can't jump a gate
Eating good used to wash paper plates
Used to think that it's not no escape
Still sparking up like the old days
Begging niggas just to get my songs played
Driving round like I got some road rage
Saving all yo pictures as my homepage
Now you see me rapping on the whole stage
Weed smelling like it died from old age
Niggas think it's sweet but it's no glaze
Fame or money guess I'm going both ways
I ain't worried about the past it's okay
Need the bread and the butter no shea
Talking down I beat ya up like OJ
Think about what yo mother gone say
I wouldn't want yo girl if she on slay
All my songs should get a radio play
Working nights and I'm working on day
When I make it they gone be like no way
Never know if today is yo day
Guess what matters is the shit you don't say
I remember I was getting a low pay
And the pain it just wouldn't go away
And I wish I could forget
Or at least attempt
I ain't worried about these niggas they sum shrimp
I'm a set em on the side a piece of fish
Good God got the flow and it's a gift
Bitches thinking I'm in love it's a twist
Got em pissed beat it up Errol Spence
They insist that's it's not making sense
Calls missed and this number don't exist
Good God - Blue Moon Avenue Lyrics
Good God - Blue Moon Avenue Lyrics
Official
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Life is hard with everybody trying to hold ya back wondering
When the storm blowing over
Ask for help family friends they don't know ya
While the winter getting colder
Weight was on ya shoulders
Everybody think it's cherry Coca Cola
Shit ain't sweet but I treat it like fruit roll ups
Got her dancing like Drizzy in Controlla
Kinda dizzy off what's inside the soda
Smoking gas like you a automotive
Taking shots like you was Otto Porter
Now I smoke a ounce was a quarter
But I'm picking up the pace
Thinking about mistakes
Rolling up something sticky like some tape
All you bitches that's in line gotta wait
You can see I'm on a grind like I skate
People try to steal my shine but they can't
And they hate but they won't bust a grape
Making weight and these rappers out of shape
What it take cuz I'm great no debate
They just fake and I am what they ain't
Getting high and they can't jump a gate
Eating good used to wash paper plates
Used to think that it's not no escape
Still sparking up like the old days
Begging niggas just to get my songs played
Driving round like I got some road rage
Saving all yo pictures as my homepage
Now you see me rapping on the whole stage
Weed smelling like it died from old age
Niggas think it's sweet but it's no glaze
Fame or money guess I'm going both ways
I ain't worried about the past it's okay
Need the bread and the butter no shea
Talking down I beat ya up like OJ
Think about what yo mother gone say
I wouldn't want yo girl if she on slay
All my songs should get a radio play
Working nights and I'm working on day
When I make it they gone be like no way
Never know if today is yo day
Guess what matters is the shit you don't say
I remember I was getting a low pay
And the pain it just wouldn't go away
And I wish I could forget
Or at least attempt
I ain't worried about these niggas they sum shrimp
I'm a set em on the side a piece of fish
Good God got the flow and it's a gift
Bitches thinking I'm in love it's a twist
Got em pissed beat it up Errol Spence
They insist that's it's not making sense
Calls missed and this number don't exist
When the storm blowing over
Ask for help family friends they don't know ya
While the winter getting colder
Weight was on ya shoulders
Everybody think it's cherry Coca Cola
Shit ain't sweet but I treat it like fruit roll ups
Got her dancing like Drizzy in Controlla
Kinda dizzy off what's inside the soda
Smoking gas like you a automotive
Taking shots like you was Otto Porter
Now I smoke a ounce was a quarter
But I'm picking up the pace
Thinking about mistakes
Rolling up something sticky like some tape
All you bitches that's in line gotta wait
You can see I'm on a grind like I skate
People try to steal my shine but they can't
And they hate but they won't bust a grape
Making weight and these rappers out of shape
What it take cuz I'm great no debate
They just fake and I am what they ain't
Getting high and they can't jump a gate
Eating good used to wash paper plates
Used to think that it's not no escape
Still sparking up like the old days
Begging niggas just to get my songs played
Driving round like I got some road rage
Saving all yo pictures as my homepage
Now you see me rapping on the whole stage
Weed smelling like it died from old age
Niggas think it's sweet but it's no glaze
Fame or money guess I'm going both ways
I ain't worried about the past it's okay
Need the bread and the butter no shea
Talking down I beat ya up like OJ
Think about what yo mother gone say
I wouldn't want yo girl if she on slay
All my songs should get a radio play
Working nights and I'm working on day
When I make it they gone be like no way
Never know if today is yo day
Guess what matters is the shit you don't say
I remember I was getting a low pay
And the pain it just wouldn't go away
And I wish I could forget
Or at least attempt
I ain't worried about these niggas they sum shrimp
I'm a set em on the side a piece of fish
Good God got the flow and it's a gift
Bitches thinking I'm in love it's a twist
Got em pissed beat it up Errol Spence
They insist that's it's not making sense
Calls missed and this number don't exist
Writer: Jauhmierre Parker
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid