No More

I used to be a bum ass nigga, I'm not no more Used to be a quitter, I'm not no more So damn bitter, I'm not no more Not no more, oh, no-no Six in the mornin' I get up, for guap-pa-pa Luxury cars and the gara-rage Christian Dior for the fa-fa-ra-fah, fah, fah Make the numbers go: Rata-tata-tata-tata Rata-tata-tata-tata Rata-tata-tata-tata, ra I, make the numbers go Rata-tata-tata-tata Rata-tata-tata-tata Rata-tata-tata-tata, ra (I, I) Eish, I was even broke in December Couldn't bring girls to the crib If they see the way I live then I might just be a virgin forever But me, I was clever Used to tell the hoes that my friend was my brother but his mother was my step one 'Cause his place was better No tape on the windows The couch real leather And they had a helper "How come I don't see you on the wall?" They would ask me "You're the only one that's not tall in your family?" God blessed me in other places And frankly, there's nothin' I can do about the cards that he hands me So skip the chatter, I got somethin' to show you Climb into this bed, let me bend and fold you You already know how that story ends I'm so much better than the old me when- I used to be a bum ass nigga, I'm not no more Used to be a quitter, I'm not no more So damn bitter, I'm not no more Not no more, oh, no-no Six in the mornin' I get up, for guap-pa-pa Luxury cars and the gara-rage Christian Dior for the fa-fa-ra-fah, fah, fah Make the numbers go: Rata-tata-tata-tata Rata-tata-tata-tata Rata-tata-tata-tata, ra I, make the numbers go Rata-tata-tata-tata Rata-tata-tata-tata Rata-tata-tata-tata (yeah) ra (I, I) I'm kinda up right now and it's a blessing, man You couldn't make me feel like I'm any less a man You see the passport tatted like a Mexican How could you second-guess the man? Bitch, you must be on coke tryna skip me like a Pepsi can I got songs for a nigga at his desk to jam For a nigga with a rope around his neck to jam That's why they ride for me like a Manchester fan For the bitches that just wanna pop X and dance Savin' up to go and get their chest enhanced I even got the slow jam heaters for my cheaters Who just wanna call their girl for a second chance But, fuck the chatter I got somethin' to show you So when I get my GRAMMY I can tell you "I told you" And only God knows how my story ends But I'm so much better than the old me when