Flyin' High

Bow
Right
Right

Gotta laugh just to keep from crying
I gotta mask can't see what I'm hiding
My nigga crashed, I ain't talking driving

You live fast, die young
So you know when he died
Gotta ride wit one to get rich, that boy was living rowdy
Protect my family with gun powder
Cause I don't wanna have to
Bury my seed, to give my sun flowers

I hated school, but I loved counting
That's how I know you gotta multiply the numbers right before dividing

I understand them phrases now hearing 'em
They killed that boy while he was focused, now he dead serious
I know she gon hate me
But will she stay solid
Shit that's the hard part
I woke up to her checking receipts
Just like at Walmart

First place is where the family come
Fuck hand-me-downs it was hand-me-ups
My aunts aint have the bread for much
I used to share my sneaks and pants with cuz
But not that long, I guess he had enough
He hopped out there and ran it up

Big Bardy
Yea

What
Look
Look

I pray that real shit live forever till that fake shit get extinguished
I'm plottin' on a milly, till that wraith wheel in my fingers
We used to cop the eighth and smoke it straight to they stingers
J remembers
Them the days that turnt the babies into winners

Mix the, henny with the herbs that's a kit
Got my Eyes low
Turnt up with the bros catch a flick
Got my iPhone
Chirpin wit some birds, tryna slip
And slide through
Hoping and she can smoke and catch the dick
Look

The life we got aint like the life of yalls, our shit be real movies
Shorty bad so I ain't trippin bout if she got lil' boobies
Like 'em freaky, the ratchets, über full of lil' cuties
Finna slide when she got time
And if she busy send the nudies

Sayin' RIP to Juice
God done gotta few
Careful round them niggas who don't got a lot to lose
These days I keep it cool
Ion't got a lot to prove
Billion dollars only thing I'm gotta do



Credits
Writer(s): Pierce Ripanti
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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