Lyrics:
That boy Zay on the beats
Maybach Music
Zaytoven
Aye, I'm talkin' everything Versace
This shit like Versace dream, you know what I'm talkin'
The rich buy high grades unfairly ahead
Another arrogant and spoiled generation is bred
2nd verse
Under access intellect of poor kids compared to rich
love and honorable toil
With children first a daughter. In him woke,
With his first babe's first cry, the noble wish
To save all earnings
Balmain, that Phillip Lim
They say i'm dressing like Kanye
I'm everything that my rhymes say:
Breadwinner, brand owner
Play Cloths, millionaire
In attempts to moderate they ask why we don't write love songs.
What is it that we sing then?
Our love of life is total, everything we do is
problems, getting rich ain't one
Like I got trust issues
I'm sorry for the people I've pushed out
I'm the type to have a bullet-proof condom
And still
In a room full of killers
Make room for the villain
Ghostface K-Killah
And the Wu for the children
The proof’s in the pudding
For the work that I put
it
Girl, I want everything that come witcha
Even if you got stretch marks, and even two children (no, no, no, no, no)
I can't blame you girl (Rich
got 99 problems, getting rich ain't one
Like I got trust issues
I'm sorry for the people I've pushed out
I'm the type to have a bullet-proof condom
instance, how to be persistent
In telling non-whites you can't earn shit
Fuck progression, it's the past you must live in
We got the rich and spoiled acting
instance, how to be persistent
In telling non-whites you can't earn sh-
F- progression, it's the past you must live in
We got the rich and spoiled acting like
troops ya house better be bomb proof
Or we can put them guns down
And throw the arms too
Haymakers, I'ma put everything in this
Punch like prom juice you
spoiled what if I go bankrupt
This aint a gym we can't work it out
You be I mad at the outcome and the way it turned out
Late night drives
Late night
to death that's painted by the numbers
With crime unapplied pressure, cats is playing God
But having children by a lesser baby mother but fuck it
We
the spiritual.
So where y’all put your praise in God,
I put the praise in myself.
Cause I am the person that got me through everything when the world damned me
didn't have a happy life
Yes, they hung out at parties, lived their lives just having fun
But were not truly happy people
Therefore do not envy rich
loot
I told them niggas
I'll be back in a bit
Like free clothes
Niggas having a fit
That paper coming Ima stack till I'm rich
Dem Late nights paying off
to death that's painted by the numbers
With crime unapplied pressure, cats is playing God
But having children by a lesser baby mother but fuck it
We
(What?)
She want bags that say DG
Left hand
Right hand
Grip pole like Mimi
I got this one bitch man she be wanting everything out the store
I buy her
Place, like everything's fine
But in real life the suburbs are just
As fucked up as everywhere else
I was raised in a suburb
That was hardly healthy
Grew
songs everything I say cap
But I want you to try and get put off da map
Steady blowing my phone I be killing hat cat
Wanna beat it down she keep
on gang but never seen the proof
Dark as hell, got my shining bright so I can see it through
People left how the hell I get through this alone
Wish me well,
will always believe in God,
So the odds of us having a shot at the leading spots upstairs
Will be to believe because it's all about numbers
Our fathers
our leaders with urgency to step up and step in these devil's kidnapping our children and killing us like animals there's a war going on outside no
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