Crisis (feat. 21 Savage)
Yeah, wake up about, uh, six
Think 'bout money, then 'bout this
I got nothin' on my wrist but I'll
Still gladly take your bitch (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Who produced that beat? (Yeah, ayy, yuh)
Yessiree I did, ayy
Got that ass on me
Sound like I'm from New York City
Airbnb, gon' fuck in it
She know that I do the music (Music)
Always cook at home, I'm tryna to save up
Tryna do my friends some favors
Gave her head, she facin' backwards (Backwards, ayy)
Twenty-seven shows, I go through cities every now and then
I watch the crowd, they jumpin', watchin' me (Watchin' me)
Cut, cut to days ago
I'm just a kid not old enough to smoke a cig
They wonder, "What's the recipe?" (Ayy, recipe)
They want me to call home, I can hear the drum roll
But understand I'm out here for a reason
Li-livin' in my own home, father miss me I know
But also he know that I'm on a mission (Mission)
I got diamonds on my fist and shit
Diamonds on my wrist and shit
So icy, bitch, I'm colder than a freezer (Bling-blaow)
My main bitch bitchin' (Twenty-one), side bitch trippin'
Bitch I love ya'll both but none of y'all ain't no keepers
I'll leave ya, Rolls Royce look like Jeepers Creepers (Twenty-one)
Made a million dollars with Adidas (Twenty-one)
Can't have a ticket, nigga, off my beeper
Take this shit to trial, nigga, I'm gon' beat it
Spilt my lean, it got me heated
Say it one time, I don't repeat it
Baby, get down on your knees and eat it (Eat it, eat it)
Walking out of Louis V with the big box
Yeah I pulled at Saint Laurent, I made a pit stop
Young Savage walk around with the big Glock (Twenty-one)
With that .30 hangin' out, nigga that's hip-hop (Facts)
Car too fast, 12 can't stop me (Skrrt)
Bitch too bad, hoes can't fuck me (Twenty-one)
You was running from the smoke, nigga, not me (On God)
Rich Chigga, 21 Savage, now it's O.D. (Twenty-one)
Yeah, wake up about, uh, six
Think 'bout money, then 'bout this
I got nothin' on my wrist but I'll
Still gladly take your bitch (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Who produced that beat? (Yeah, ayy, yuh)
Yessiree I did, ayy
She act like a bird
I wear shit made out of fur
Your man say he getting money
Claim that he's entrepreneur
Fast car like Fast & Furious
She throw it back, Delorean
I'm sittin' in somebody's BMW recordin' this
Not my whip, not my whip
Rather walk or take a Lyft
On a trip, I hit the strip
That made me sad and then I dip
Ayy, Brian learnin' how to live it (Damn)
People 'round him go in circles
Head is spinnin' with no fidget (Recipe)
Used to play the drums though
Never liked it, no, no
Lil' Brian didn't see the bigger picture
Rap-rap on my own beats so
One hundred percent goes
Straight to my lil' pockets and I keep it
Yeah, wake up about, uh, six
Think 'bout money, then 'bout this
I got nothin' on my wrist but I'll
Still gladly take your bitch (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Who produced that beat? (Yeah, ayy, yuh)
Yessiree I did, ayy
Got that ass on me
Sound like I'm from New York City
Airbnb, gon' fuck in it
She know that I do the music (Music)
Always cook at home, I'm tryna to save up
Tryna do my friends some favors
Gave her head, she facin' backwards (Backwards, ayy)
Think 'bout money, then 'bout this
I got nothin' on my wrist but I'll
Still gladly take your bitch (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Who produced that beat? (Yeah, ayy, yuh)
Yessiree I did, ayy
Got that ass on me
Sound like I'm from New York City
Airbnb, gon' fuck in it
She know that I do the music (Music)
Always cook at home, I'm tryna to save up
Tryna do my friends some favors
Gave her head, she facin' backwards (Backwards, ayy)
Twenty-seven shows, I go through cities every now and then
I watch the crowd, they jumpin', watchin' me (Watchin' me)
Cut, cut to days ago
I'm just a kid not old enough to smoke a cig
They wonder, "What's the recipe?" (Ayy, recipe)
They want me to call home, I can hear the drum roll
But understand I'm out here for a reason
Li-livin' in my own home, father miss me I know
But also he know that I'm on a mission (Mission)
I got diamonds on my fist and shit
Diamonds on my wrist and shit
So icy, bitch, I'm colder than a freezer (Bling-blaow)
My main bitch bitchin' (Twenty-one), side bitch trippin'
Bitch I love ya'll both but none of y'all ain't no keepers
I'll leave ya, Rolls Royce look like Jeepers Creepers (Twenty-one)
Made a million dollars with Adidas (Twenty-one)
Can't have a ticket, nigga, off my beeper
Take this shit to trial, nigga, I'm gon' beat it
Spilt my lean, it got me heated
Say it one time, I don't repeat it
Baby, get down on your knees and eat it (Eat it, eat it)
Walking out of Louis V with the big box
Yeah I pulled at Saint Laurent, I made a pit stop
Young Savage walk around with the big Glock (Twenty-one)
With that .30 hangin' out, nigga that's hip-hop (Facts)
Car too fast, 12 can't stop me (Skrrt)
Bitch too bad, hoes can't fuck me (Twenty-one)
You was running from the smoke, nigga, not me (On God)
Rich Chigga, 21 Savage, now it's O.D. (Twenty-one)
Yeah, wake up about, uh, six
Think 'bout money, then 'bout this
I got nothin' on my wrist but I'll
Still gladly take your bitch (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Who produced that beat? (Yeah, ayy, yuh)
Yessiree I did, ayy
She act like a bird
I wear shit made out of fur
Your man say he getting money
Claim that he's entrepreneur
Fast car like Fast & Furious
She throw it back, Delorean
I'm sittin' in somebody's BMW recordin' this
Not my whip, not my whip
Rather walk or take a Lyft
On a trip, I hit the strip
That made me sad and then I dip
Ayy, Brian learnin' how to live it (Damn)
People 'round him go in circles
Head is spinnin' with no fidget (Recipe)
Used to play the drums though
Never liked it, no, no
Lil' Brian didn't see the bigger picture
Rap-rap on my own beats so
One hundred percent goes
Straight to my lil' pockets and I keep it
Yeah, wake up about, uh, six
Think 'bout money, then 'bout this
I got nothin' on my wrist but I'll
Still gladly take your bitch (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Who produced that beat? (Yeah, ayy, yuh)
Yessiree I did, ayy
Got that ass on me
Sound like I'm from New York City
Airbnb, gon' fuck in it
She know that I do the music (Music)
Always cook at home, I'm tryna to save up
Tryna do my friends some favors
Gave her head, she facin' backwards (Backwards, ayy)
Credits
Writer(s): Keenon Daquan Ray Jackson, Samuel Ahana, Shayaa Bin Abraham-joseph
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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