On My Momma
Think bout it while the blunts get rolled
Every chain ain't made of gold
Locked up
Challenge everything that your told yeah
Think about it while blunts rolled now
Gotta make it some how
I don't wanna be in and out
I think I found the route
I found the route
On my momma put it all on me
Locked in
Lowkey
Locked in
Money wont solve my problems
Gotta handle that
I still need commas
Where the money at
Pop shit get the honors
Pop shit right now
Pop shit
Hmmm
On my momma put it all on me
Locked in
Lowkey
Locked in
Can't play me I bought the league
Put a foot on they neck make it hard to breath
I aint hard to please
My heart grew cold wasn't hard to freeze
Rock solid Ima hardened being
You paint it how you see it that's the art of things
That the art of things
I aint arguing
If it aint good vibes
Aint nothing to bring
Gotta put it on me
Gotta put it on me
On my momma put it all on me
Locked in
Lowkey
Locked in
I'm lowkey
Niggas don't know me
Treat a grammy like a third place trophy
I don't give a fuck
Long as pro tools running my weed is tucked
Aint nobody give me shit
They aint say good luck
I aint need it cuz I always had enough
You had to bluff
I'm in no rush
On my momma put it all on me
Locked in
Lowkey
Locked in
Money wont solve my problems
Gotta handle that
I still need commas
Where the money at
Pop shit get the honors
Pop shit right now
Pop shit
Hmmm
Every chain ain't made of gold
Locked up
Challenge everything that your told yeah
Think about it while blunts rolled now
Gotta make it some how
I don't wanna be in and out
I think I found the route
I found the route
On my momma put it all on me
Locked in
Lowkey
Locked in
Money wont solve my problems
Gotta handle that
I still need commas
Where the money at
Pop shit get the honors
Pop shit right now
Pop shit
Hmmm
On my momma put it all on me
Locked in
Lowkey
Locked in
Can't play me I bought the league
Put a foot on they neck make it hard to breath
I aint hard to please
My heart grew cold wasn't hard to freeze
Rock solid Ima hardened being
You paint it how you see it that's the art of things
That the art of things
I aint arguing
If it aint good vibes
Aint nothing to bring
Gotta put it on me
Gotta put it on me
On my momma put it all on me
Locked in
Lowkey
Locked in
I'm lowkey
Niggas don't know me
Treat a grammy like a third place trophy
I don't give a fuck
Long as pro tools running my weed is tucked
Aint nobody give me shit
They aint say good luck
I aint need it cuz I always had enough
You had to bluff
I'm in no rush
On my momma put it all on me
Locked in
Lowkey
Locked in
Money wont solve my problems
Gotta handle that
I still need commas
Where the money at
Pop shit get the honors
Pop shit right now
Pop shit
Hmmm
Credits
Writer(s): Randall White
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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