Lyrics:
Girl there's a lot of distractions that Could get in our way
But even when I'm out of town just Know I'm here to stay
(I need you to stand by me)
(When
out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A
And the rest is F-L-Y
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix
And these reasons I'll tell you why
You
They know we get that grown pay (we got it)
Now they mess with me the long way (we got it)
The long way
Too big and too ugly, would you ever love
he's straight
The only n**** out the project Magnolia with weight
[Hook - Turk]
N****, we hustle hustle everyday, all day
Get our grind on in
it's a mountain
Climbing this shit yeah I be pounding
Imma get rich by the way that I'm sounding
Gimme that drink I know it's potent
Imma get drunk just
yeah, we runnin' in your shit
No runnin' out yeah, my money long
It ain't no runnin' out
Run it up, run it up, on they ass
Get the cash, secure the bag,
Rewind the clip
Yeah, I'll start by taking back
It's Spring of '17
Sitting shotgun there in my car
You said celebrities are sad, no matter how big or small
Nobody really knows I feel probably better off on my own
Your attitude won't ruin my day rather spend it all alone
Get out my way get out my way
Best
critique
Look at me nigga, just a young hood nigga tryna get this cake
I don't need to be givin' out how school gon' educate
Filet mignon for my food stamps
I got the henny If you wanna just sip it
But when you get to strippin
Ima put the tip in
Hokey pokey put my hip in
I ain't trippin
Cuz every time I
what you're stealin'
Your open-wound style needed some healin'
You're stripped out by my flow
I'm glad you know behind
This spark I got the
Phattest
bro, Jackson
By the time you get home, you be hearing this
We be rolling and dog we gon' be
On our King of New York shit
Do the King of New York dance
from out the trenches
Ain't no problem dats too big
Dat if we sit, dat we can't fix
My nigga, my nigga
Keep dem hoes out our business
And dem niggas
shoulder... ? Aw, you're fulla shit, man... ah, listen, by the way, before I go on; did you get those white albums I sent ya with the pencil on the front... ?
(Rock Boy Beats)
(That nigga Ladd got the juice, uh)
Ayy, pull up, I'ma air this bitch out, they call me Big Chant
I been on the run, they tryna
to our Mom
Unless she humiliated you, by your lack of success
Humiliated you, on every phone call
That's why I didn't call her but every two weeks
Yet you
out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A
And the rest is F-L-Y
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix
And these reasons I'll tell you why
You
It's a stick up
Cannon on the line, we carry big drums
It's a stick up
Rob the industry the way we get funds
Took eight years, now a nigga make gold
bless that spot
Our presence got an aura of the renaissance
We never caught at any cost
Without the means to get applause
In any spot we getting jaws
ever get there
See you when you get there
More temptation than faith, I guess we livin' for the day
I seen a man get swept off his feet, by a boy
care who I offend
Im tryna ball way above the rim
Im tryna ball like an athlete
They done let a big dog off the leash
Niggas by lying right out they
h-town livin’
On a Friday By Ur Side chillin
Sharp like Big Pokey and Cactus Jack
ADH-adding up my money long as practice lasts
L on my hat, but we’re
by the holler
Got a twelve pack of beer sitting way Over yonder let's get drunk, I'll try My luck
Yeah, we turning up this town in some jacked up
Ways to get up
Ways to get up
Only one way down
I was raised to get up
Raised to get up
Raised to get up
Only one way down
I’m not phased
By the buck
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