Lost & Found

I was Lost and found
Couldn't find my way back up
I was down and out
Stuck sleeping on my homie's couch
This a church song
With a good ass beat
With a good ass intro
Pick a good ass seat
And we down
And we ride
And shit's good
For the night
All we thought in our brains
Was a time and a place
And a sound for our voice
To make sure that we straight, yeah

Fuck them bitches, and them hoes
We don't believe em
We take it off, like summer clothes
We change the seasons
NBA to NFL
Holy shit we hot as hell
Ah damn we broke the scale
Mamma that boy cold like chill
Money team we got em
Icy blue rings
Like when New Orleans poured the city on em
We really rockin
We semi cock em
We got them boys they belly floppin
Or heavy noddin
They hear our vibe and know the city rockin
Rock slow and live fast and die young
None of this matters if I die with no one
Kickin it back, back to my reality
I'm a g when it comes to this shit like a salary
Got them dollars in the bag like it's a set up, a robbery
Shit I'm lyin
But I want the cream, calories
They wanna kill my vibe, shit's a causality
But I just run in circles, this is just a race to me

I was Lost and found
Couldn't find my way back up
I was down and out
Stuck sleeping on my homie's couch
This a church song
With a good ass beat
With a good ass intro
Pick a good ass seat
And we down
And we ride
And shit's good
For the night
All we thought in our brains
Was a time and a place
And a sound for our voice
To make sure that we straight, yeah

Back up in this bitch
I got something to prove
If I'm not makin mulah
Know that I'll be chucking the deuce
Like goodbye
Adios bitch
Sayonara sucka
I should make a reference to how I took this life and fucked her
But I married the game, she so divine
Like Mac's fill in the blank, feminine
I don't mean to be asinine but here's the bottom line
These bitches they wine and dine while I'm stuck stompin grape vines
Or walkin egg shells
Or send them back and they tell
All of my secrets ring bells
For all the needs of the poor
For all the needs of the broke
For all the needs that the gun can provide when they can't pray for that hope
So they can beg for that certain death
Call for that special chef that delivers them special gifts
They don't know that they lost yet
Lost ones, they waiting on a prize they might never get
Cuz they know that they can't be found
Know that they lost and found

I was Lost and found
Couldn't find my way back up
I was down and out
Stuck sleeping on my homie's couch
This a church song
With a good ass beat
With a good ass intro
Pick a good ass seat
And we down
And we ride
And shit's good
For the night
All we thought in our brains
Was a time and a place
And a sound for our voice
To make sure that we straight, yeah



Credits
Writer(s): Joey Jackson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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