Letra

Sheesh Just a week ago Everything was sweet I'm losing close friends Money ain't shit I'm sick of greed I lit the weed then I crack the bottle Will I see tomorrow? I let it all for my daughter and my babby momma Sketchy drug deals got me here today Pocket full of seeds chopping trees down in Uruguay We go to jail I piss a year away They don't see the value in life Shit, I'm here to stay I fucked around I'm bout to gun show Indo for the head sell all the sun grown Remember where you come from 'Cause acting brand new that ain't something you can run from Shits changing yeah I'm still crazy Fuck the world that's how I feel lately Yeah, put a couple joints in the air I'm riding slow through the city in a brand new McClaren A lot of money on the table Will I make it or not? A whole lot of money on the table They say I'm worth more dead than when I'm alive A lot of money on the table Will I make it or not? A whole lot of money on the table They say I'm worth more dead than when I'm alive They say real niggas never die Word to my weed I'm forever high Money on the table some set aside Been stop banging put my set aside Probably out touring Money on the dining room table that's Ralph Lauren Smoke on the kitchen, table more on the counter top I'm not around a lot I'm touching pounds alot Probably in the foreign Me without weed is the Fugees without Lauryn The movie without a star A speaker without a forum Niggas don't feel me, fuck it I just ignore them, nigga A full saver in a digi scale Two lawyers on deck if you've been to jail Money machine and the automatic Money on the table and that mansion and we all can have it Deuce A lot of money on the table Will I make it or not? A whole lot of money on the table They say I'm worth more dead than when I'm alive A lot of money on the table Will I make it or not? A whole lot of money on the table They say I'm worth more dead than when I'm alive What's there when you pop but gone when you not Your homies ain't solid, keep explaining to cops The weed man won't pick up the phone now And every now and then you duck where you hang out Three homies from your childhood memories timed out You get addicted to sliding slapping the five in The streets was our fathers Needed the Bentley low mileage Couldn't get it in college, we learned The struggle make my appreciate every dollar I earned I love to see my mother's face when I tell her to splurge I did that, chauffeur my daughter in my Maybach That take me back to when we new jack And different colour food stamps But now I hurt the burner with style And now I got Peruvian couch, nigga In that terranean house And how the millions come with an out You feel me? A lot of money on the table Will I make it or not? A whole lot of money on the table They say I'm worth more dead than when I'm alive A lot of money on the table Will I make it or not? A whole lot of money on the table They say I'm worth more dead than when I'm alive
Writer(s): Styles P, Schoolboy Q, Gilbert Anthony Jr Milam Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out