Lyrics:
on ya
Cause I did it the hard way
I'm the black Frank Sinatra
Did it my way
Imma pull that ol' school
Outta my garage
Got these chicks goin crazy
When
meant for this performing
Why
Alright welcome to the album
I realize that maybe I should start by saying I was born may 10, 1999
Just in case you're
Was shot down at home by the Ford brothers' guns
Belle Starr, Belle Starr, your time's getting late
But how is Jim Younger, did you hear his fate?
He
Jim Reed by the dark of the moon
And your son Ed was blowed down in a drunken saloon
Then there was Bob Younger, you loved him so well
He rode with
a young Frank Sinatra
All my rhymes are catchy
Ten-thousand percent bearbrick speaking arabic
Cold as fuck, sitting high up, I'm on a chair-lift
Flip
Yeah
Yeah, I'm out that Brooklyn, now I'm down in Tribeca
Right next to De Niro, but I'll be hood forever
I'm the new Sinatra, and since I made
I feel—I feel compelled to[01:40.71]I—I was inspired by other outros like Note to Self by J. Cole on 2014[01:51.24]I listen to the whole album top
Frank Sinatra taught me all about the swing
Elvis Presley taught me how to be the king
Adele, yeah, she taught me how to sing
Ed Sheeran taught me
45 states cause I'm too real
Waka Flocka like a Gucci album, I'm hard to kill
I don't think they fuckin with me whether I'm locked dead or in jail
like cita
margaritas by the liter, aye yah
Then I hit a tippy tah on the runny tah when I'm running by nigga sada-tay
Up and down like seesaw
I can't
like Frank Sinatra
Now watch my haters disappear
I call em' Jimmy Hoffa
My pockets fatter than a slug
I feel like fuckin Jabba the Hutt
Test me you gon
did this, booked and fingerprinted
Unlimited turn, early bird catches the worm
My penicillin heals, taking turns we trying to burn
Rub me down like
And the music weren’t paying
But I could feel deep down there must be better days
A lot just copy and paste
But I did it Frank Sinatra man I did it my way
They
watch him freeze us
Breaking bread like I'm Jesus
Money ain't everything, but somehow eases
Better believe and think down and leave us, the baby cryin'
Well I have been in here for two or three days and they
won't let me out! No. They've left me stuck in this here studio and what can I do but mumble
that rolls by
That I don't get high, sit back and wan' cry
I used to roll hard with tons of bitches
Now, it's just me and my niggas, what?
It ain't
Let the rodents in the spot, we got the rat poison
They ask me how I do it, I say bitch I'm chosen
Neck turning blue, that's cause it's frozen
Money
They call me Young Gudda,
I'm all about the doe still,
And anybody in my way, Roadkill,
Everything my hands touch turn to gold,
Money, Knots
at the bottom of the pole, Totem
Like Lamar Odom, I ball, scrotum
Flier than a cricket so they call me Nicki Jim-any
And it's going down like Santa in
really hot yeah like Frank's
I could really fuck yo bitch if I wanted to oh this ain't no prank
I could pull up, I could pull up with the top down
Ridin'
Over there by the derby, buy they dirty devils from me
to keep my paper sturdy, yo word G
I ain't afraid to get my hands dirty, you heard me?
I
just got to get up and dance
cnd maybe read some books by Malcolm Nance.
I said frank now do me a favor
'Cause you know the election is over
To set your
Thang
Imma mix you with the henny
When you tell me it's the weekend
Imma throw you off the deep end
Now we chillan by the ocean
So it's frank
on the hill
I can hear a tape deck blastin' "Home on the Range"
I can see them Bar-M choppers
Sweepin' low across the plains
It's me and you Frank we're
.jpg/228px-Frank_Sinatra_(1957_studio_portrait_close-up).jpg "Frank Sinatra")
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