4rm Me to U

Album: Rich As In Spirit (2018)
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  • Yeah, Aye catour fuck it up

    Gotta sit on this mic ‘cause I
    Can’t keep my thoughts inside me
    And I keep them hoes at
    My spot like Michael Lowrey
    Got a bad lil bih from Paris
    Met her at the Eiffel Tower
    Bought a brand new watch for my birthday but
    I ain’t put no ice around it (no no)
    I can’t change the person I am baby but
    I can change the way that I live
    (rich homie)
    And if a thing happened for a reason
    Baby I can’t change nothing I did (uh uh)
    If I could change anything baby
    Wouldn't've made you never aborted that kid
    But I did and it’s on my mind still
    (I'm sorry baby)
    I been tryna find a way to forgive
    (tryna find a way)
    You want diamonds off in my ear
    Shinin', they know I'm clear, behind me
    They in the rear
    We kickin' pimpin' over here
    No lame bitches over here

    I say them bitches ain't gettin' paid
    On they face a lot of hate
    But I ain't trippin' 'cause they do
    A lot of shade throwin'
    Me and my buddy hit a lick last week
    We had to split it all this money boy
    I told him let's get paid homie
    I do this shit for gang gang
    Gave all of my niggas chains
    And right now I swear I feel
    Just like a slave owner
    All these nigga takin' swag
    Hell yeah the homie mad
    Come to think about it
    They ain't ever pay homage

    I put a lot these niggas on and
    I still ain't got my credit
    But I ain't mad though
    (nah) 'cause I could've been mad broke (yeah)
    I watch my momma work a double just to
    Feed all her kids 'cause that bag slow
    (she got like three of em)
    Gotta make that cash flow (I love you momma)
    But I couldn't let my momma struggle
    So I got me a job (nah nigga)
    But she ain't know my job require
    A gun 'cause I rob
    She ain't ever understand what was
    Back in the kitchen, residue on the floors
    (I was hustlin') she ain't know about the
    Shootout in her truck
    (fa-fa-fa) , until I was involved
    She ain't know about the co-defendant I had
    Kept it one hundred took the charge
    (I didn't take shit)
    You the only one put somethin' on my books
    When I was in jail and I starved
    (when I was locked up)
    Cut from a different cloth
    I'm as rare as they come
    And I'ma keep ballin' on these bitches
    Like my hair is gone (rich homie baby)

    I say them bitches ain't gettin' paid
    On they face a lot of hate
    But I ain't trippin' 'cause they do
    A lot of shade throwin'
    Me and my buddy hit a lick last week
    We had to split it all this
    Money boy, I told him let's get paid homie
    I do this shit for gang gang
    Gave all of my niggas chains
    And right now I swear I feel
    Just like a slave owner
    All these niggas takin' swag
    Hell yeah the homie mad
    Come to think about it they
    Ain't never paid homage

    At this point, yeen got
    To bro, haha nahmsayin
    I watch myself put you
    Niggas on, ya feel me, so at
    This point I'm dead nigga, homie Writer/s: Dequantes Lamar, Latasha Williams, Xeryus Gittens
    Publisher: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Songtrust Ave
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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