Lyrics

Putting on long hours on a paper chase Want that cake too boy love the taste of it Its all or nothing until we finally make it The team they aint to play with Now own your debts boy you better pay me Hit the ground running all for the paper chase More money to make putting em down wont hesitate Coming in fast getting rich yall hate it Talking big bread the thing caucasian Here to get it started Only give you the best of me Work in sets of three Come with a extra set of keys Just for kicking them doors down The game is my broad now Her soul found The world is my playground Cant get wit it Im sicker it wit the literature Dogs we sick at you Aint a winner rappers is cynical Let your foot drag bet we hit up you winter coat One up in your throat you a shooter homie im in the scope Sick aint at my peak yet kill this and its monumental Beat kick crack spitting rocks on this instrumental Man the mind is so mental You niggaz get the memo So boy cudos Signing deals and aint sent a demo Getting it the king they label me this By product of the pen fakes aint relating to this Getting filthy rich until I cant fit the thing in my pockets Been a show stopper you boys gotta be blocking You bird brains this educated rap Mixed with some punchlines im way ahead of that Back and im bad now spark like metals clap Words flowing now bow down put on your thinking caps Aint been one to live of assumptions yall consumption Trunking em with loose vowels no function Yall weak my team spots em like lifting The gifted more than just brain smarts you misfits Since young as hell had a story to tell Twelve in a cell all self with em soaking in hell Aint live no crime life Boy you a fraud pretending to be Got no sympathy Order em dead or send em to me Must finish em Closing out act improper on etiquette Necessary when you expressing Making it very clear Evident out to get paid Hand me them dead men Presidents benjamin franks Call em the head man Putting on long hours on a paper chase Want that cake too boy love the taste of it Its all or nothing until we finally make it The team they aint to play with Now own your debts boy you better pay me Hit the ground running all for the paper chase More money to make putting em down wont hesitate Coming in fast getting rich yall hate it Talking big bread the thing caucasian
Writer(s): Wilbert Robinson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out