Lyrics:
On Bob finna quit my job
Tell the girls we going out (Okay)
Ima Diva and a OG
Big bucks big cup po mo please
Sun God my skin cocoa trees
Real bad I
on.
My heart is armored,
I'm haunted by big booty women,
With tights on,
I love it when they do me,
Especially with the lights on,
Pretty Trini
or the bars
To bob your head and nod
I recall, so many never ever thought you'd make it
So sad they were mistaken
The joy they tried to take it
Mama said
The streets is like the rap game, a daily tug-of-war
For rich or for poor, or death do us part, niggas come for test
Still grimy (grimy, nigga)
Still
on more than a nic' (yeah, bitch)
My Brooklyn bitch in the Garden, while we watchin' the Knicks (yeah-yeah)
Walk your bitch like a pit', dogshit by my hip
like Jimi Hendrix, my hero, I realised, wait these songs of his
Some of them they're written by Bob Dylan
Maybe I should be listening to that guy more
It
to a necklace
Adidas suit flier than shell toes
Maneuver in the coupe, the roof by my elbows
Niggas wanna be me, bitches wanna date me
Young black and rich so
A musical
And nothing's as amazing as a musical
With song and dance
And sweet romance
And happy endings happening by happenstance
Bright lights, stage
this shit I'm soul
Ice ice they gotta pay me in gold
Told em rich by 24
No love no x and o's
Wrist in froze ya beats being me
All the baddest hoes
major labels
The big studios who still give niggas favors
On the mixin' and mastering, puzzlin' and
Plastering the tracks together on tapes, C-D's,
the wood
Vanities mirage keep playing the drum
Bring us out in the mood
The beauty, the beast
The big divide between the rich the poor
The beauty,
to me
I'm draped down in Givenchy
I just put blue guts in the 'Rari
Rich niggas on the intersection, I'm sorry
Bust down watch and shades by Bvlgari
January went quick
February didn't go by fast
March they was on dick
April now they on my ass
But man you know i'm still get rich
Them fuckas still
What the young trend settin musician I be
Got critics givin up the recognition I de-serve
Never bring yo mrs. By me
I'm it I'm it call me mr. I-t
If I
bob
But I had got it fixed
I'm the one that paid all of her bills
She acting like she rich (you ain't rich)
Every time I'm there she call her job
She
When I was a boy about the age of ten
Got some old records by the blues men
Found a big connection to my lonely life
I couldn't wait to learn some
Old girl rich independent
Two tone lookin at necklace
Cool song where did you get this
We coming up now and we making the check list
One girl Rich
Economists and other high profile individuals to discuss global issues
Driven by the vision of its influential CEO Klaus Schwab
The WEF is the main driving
looking for him
I'd play my little songs in the car next to you boo
She bob her head and say, "damn! Oh, that's you?"
But by the last anthem, I was feeling
and the alimony
Is why I'm broke, but I don't care because
My impact is mandatory in a age of fake and
I'm perplexed by the hate
Why flex in your songs if
They
This song right here,
Is dedicated to the president of the United States of America
Y'all might know him as George Bush
But where I'm from,
and a spliff big like Bob Marley - (Ting mad pawdy)
No need no club key we party pon we grung G
Hookup a box fullup a table and it complete
Da zone ya no gun
to walk
Clear view, dark tints
Hustle by the park bench
White top, blue tops
Niggas I don't call friends
('Til they called it love)
Called my niggas,
to walk
Clear view, dark tints, hustle by the park bench
White top, blue tops, niggas I don't call friends
('Til they called it love)
Called my niggas,
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