2 Hand Touch
My guy, Jordan,
Ay, remember when we used to
Play two hand touch on the block back in the day
Man, them was the good ol' days bro
Ay, when's the last time you
Picked up a football though
I got drama, I got problems
I got issues, I got lots of
Things to complain about
But I don't talk much
I got no more patience
Please, no more drama
I got drama, I got problems
I got issues, I got lots of
Things to complain about
But I don't talk much
I got no more patience
Please, no more drama
Please, no more drama
Please, no more problems
Please, no more tweakin'
If it ain't bout a comma,
I don't really wanna talk much
I been reaping uncommon seeds
Don't need no mo' Karma
'Less it's bringing me hope
We used to eat off Obama
'til they told Pops and Momma
That they cannot qualify for stamps cause they make a dollar too much to reap SNAP
I must've snapped when I saw them products wasn't in that kitchen pantry
Houston, we got a problem
Used to pack up a lot of candy tryna make profit
Used to move it at the school yard
Thinkin' I was gon' solve it
7th grader with intentions to get rich
But was not aware of what it took to live inside America's trauma
That's why
I got drama, I got problems
I got issues, I got lots of
Things to complain about
But I don't talk much
I got no more patience
Please, no more drama
I used to pick them passes on the block,
Then run the pig skin to the stop sign on the corner
I was on a street light schedule,
Be up in the crib by quarter 7
That's throwback like quarterback
Way back like cornerback
The culdesac was poppin'
Back then all we worried 'bout
Was school and coolin' it with potnas
Not 'bout police poppin', poppin' percs and pussy plots
Pardon my p's but past days all it meant was cat
Back when cap guns was taxed 2 dollars
From the car of caramel suckers with that melody
That make you run for coverage of twenty five cents
Cause all you got's seventy five in pocket
Now we set up private profits
Some of my old friends victims of it
Seen him by the parking lot of Walmart
Pushin' on a cart of cotton cloth
The same dude from the block
That threw the ball that I picked
I got drama, I got problems
I got issues, I got lots of
Things to complain about
But I don't talk much
I got no more patience
Please, no more drama
Ay, remember when we used to
Play two hand touch on the block back in the day
Man, them was the good ol' days bro
Ay, when's the last time you
Picked up a football though
I got drama, I got problems
I got issues, I got lots of
Things to complain about
But I don't talk much
I got no more patience
Please, no more drama
I got drama, I got problems
I got issues, I got lots of
Things to complain about
But I don't talk much
I got no more patience
Please, no more drama
Please, no more drama
Please, no more problems
Please, no more tweakin'
If it ain't bout a comma,
I don't really wanna talk much
I been reaping uncommon seeds
Don't need no mo' Karma
'Less it's bringing me hope
We used to eat off Obama
'til they told Pops and Momma
That they cannot qualify for stamps cause they make a dollar too much to reap SNAP
I must've snapped when I saw them products wasn't in that kitchen pantry
Houston, we got a problem
Used to pack up a lot of candy tryna make profit
Used to move it at the school yard
Thinkin' I was gon' solve it
7th grader with intentions to get rich
But was not aware of what it took to live inside America's trauma
That's why
I got drama, I got problems
I got issues, I got lots of
Things to complain about
But I don't talk much
I got no more patience
Please, no more drama
I used to pick them passes on the block,
Then run the pig skin to the stop sign on the corner
I was on a street light schedule,
Be up in the crib by quarter 7
That's throwback like quarterback
Way back like cornerback
The culdesac was poppin'
Back then all we worried 'bout
Was school and coolin' it with potnas
Not 'bout police poppin', poppin' percs and pussy plots
Pardon my p's but past days all it meant was cat
Back when cap guns was taxed 2 dollars
From the car of caramel suckers with that melody
That make you run for coverage of twenty five cents
Cause all you got's seventy five in pocket
Now we set up private profits
Some of my old friends victims of it
Seen him by the parking lot of Walmart
Pushin' on a cart of cotton cloth
The same dude from the block
That threw the ball that I picked
I got drama, I got problems
I got issues, I got lots of
Things to complain about
But I don't talk much
I got no more patience
Please, no more drama
Credits
Writer(s): Jordan Lyles
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.