Father Stretch My Hands, Pt. 2
I told, I told, ay ay, I told you Up in the morning, miss you bad Sorry I ain't called you back Same problem my father had All his time, all he had, all he had In what he dreamed All his cash, market crashed Hurt him bad, people get divorced for that Drops some stacks pops is good Momma pass in Hollywood If you ask, lost my soul Driving fast, lost control Off the road, jaw was broke 'Member we all was broke 'Member I'm coming back I'll be taking all the stacks I got broads in Atlanta Twisting dope, lean, and the Fanta Credit cards and the scammers Hitting off licks in the bando Black X6, Phantom White X6 looks like a panda Going out like I'm Montana Hundred killers, hundred hammers Black X6, Phantom White X6, panda Pockets swole, Danny Selling bar, candy Man I'm the macho like Randy The choppa go Oscar for Grammy Bitch nigga, pull up ya panty Hope you killas understand me I just want to feel liberated, I, I, I I just want to feel liberated, I, I, I Taking all the stacks, oh I got broads in Atlanta Twist the dope, lean and shit, sippin' Fanta Credit cards and the scammers Wake up Versace, shit life Desiigner Whole bunch of lavish shit They be asking round town who be clappin shit I be pullin up stuff in the Phantom ship I got plenty of stuff of Bugatti, whip look how I try this shit Black X6, Phantom White X6, killing on camera How can I find you? Who do you turn to? How do I bind you? If I don't turn to you No other help I know, I stretch my hands
Written by: Adnan Khan, Caroline Shaw, Cydel Young, Kanye West, Malik Yousef, Noah Goldstein, Pat Reynolds, Rick Rubin, Sidney Selby, TL Barrett
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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