Fruits of My Labor
Thank you Tymonie
Closed mouths don't get fed but yo lips too loose
Off wit'cho head it's too big for the noose
Y'all think I'm rapping that sweet shit
Soon as my lips get to spitting someone on the news
Y'all got the blues you looking for clues
These cappers can't hang pick a new execute
I wash the blood off my lyrical thumbs
Y'all scrolling through feeds I'm picking my fruits
With my Labor that's plenty
Slaved for my roots to my fruits when I die that's no kizzy
Talkin' shit is he
Tooting his horn til he dizzy, I step in lips get to zipping
They look at me and say T on his grizzly, I'm looking back like fashizzy
A dog in this game and I'm hot wit no glizzy
Y'all feline to me and I'm married so shelter ya kitty, mm
Find ya litter box you piss poor
I make platinum potential out tin foil
Running every verse I write my insoles wearin' down
Just like all of my ten toes in the ground striking all my pen's oil
Frying shit on every beat like Cristco
Especially when I'm behind the keyboard
Know you heard the tag before the beat start
If not feel free to restart cuz I'm in my duffle
Tymonie and Gumpy back for the rebuddle
Bringing flavor to ya ears Lyndor Truffles
Know y'all in trouble ya face says it all
Like you broke ya momma window playing ball
Melting out ya skin shittin' in ya drawls
Like, Damn, I knew I shoulda never fooled wit'chall
Closed mouths don't get fed but yo lips too loose
Off wit'cho head it's too big for the noose
Y'all think I'm rapping that sweet shit
Soon as my lips get to spitting someone on the news
Y'all got the blues you looking for clues
These cappers can't hang pick a new execute
I wash the blood off my lyrical thumbs
Y'all scrolling through feeds I'm picking my fruits
Woo!
Walked away from the gym, now it's gem after gem
Off the pine to the pen
Turn a boy into a man, earn it all for the fam
Politicking with the friends, how we gonna get it in
Hustle hard til the end (Uhh)
Fruits of my labor, never later
Put it all in favors, yeah I need it now
Put the work in, put the worth in
Everything comes by the pound
Accolades, money trees for the shade
Sunshine, add it for a rainy day
They ain't never wan'na see a nigga win
White lies tryna hold us down again, uhh
Maximize on the pain, lock our minds like a chain
Felonizing my name, publicizing the shame
Falsifying the game, jeopardizing the same
Same shit, same this, same that
Same black skin, hold my frontline tryna set niggas free
Strange fruits hanging from the poplar tree
Traumatized that it could've been me
Could've been you, could've been two
Could've been her, could've been him, could've been them
But I gotta pick the fruits for 'em
Then sweet taste of the gems
Make it happen for me and mine
Mr. dufflebag show 'em how we grind
Closed mouths don't get fed but yo lips too loose
Off wit'cho head it's too big for the noose
Y'all think I'm rapping that sweet shit
Soon as my lips get to spitting someone on the news
Y'all got the blues you looking for clues
These cappers can't hang pick a new execute
I wash the blood off my lyrical thumbs
Y'all scrolling through feeds I'm picking my fruits
Closed mouths don't get fed but yo lips too loose
Off wit'cho head it's too big for the noose
Y'all think I'm rapping that sweet shit
Soon as my lips get to spitting someone on the news
Y'all got the blues you looking for clues
These cappers can't hang pick a new execute
I wash the blood off my lyrical thumbs
Y'all scrolling through feeds I'm picking my fruits
With my Labor that's plenty
Slaved for my roots to my fruits when I die that's no kizzy
Talkin' shit is he
Tooting his horn til he dizzy, I step in lips get to zipping
They look at me and say T on his grizzly, I'm looking back like fashizzy
A dog in this game and I'm hot wit no glizzy
Y'all feline to me and I'm married so shelter ya kitty, mm
Find ya litter box you piss poor
I make platinum potential out tin foil
Running every verse I write my insoles wearin' down
Just like all of my ten toes in the ground striking all my pen's oil
Frying shit on every beat like Cristco
Especially when I'm behind the keyboard
Know you heard the tag before the beat start
If not feel free to restart cuz I'm in my duffle
Tymonie and Gumpy back for the rebuddle
Bringing flavor to ya ears Lyndor Truffles
Know y'all in trouble ya face says it all
Like you broke ya momma window playing ball
Melting out ya skin shittin' in ya drawls
Like, Damn, I knew I shoulda never fooled wit'chall
Closed mouths don't get fed but yo lips too loose
Off wit'cho head it's too big for the noose
Y'all think I'm rapping that sweet shit
Soon as my lips get to spitting someone on the news
Y'all got the blues you looking for clues
These cappers can't hang pick a new execute
I wash the blood off my lyrical thumbs
Y'all scrolling through feeds I'm picking my fruits
Woo!
Walked away from the gym, now it's gem after gem
Off the pine to the pen
Turn a boy into a man, earn it all for the fam
Politicking with the friends, how we gonna get it in
Hustle hard til the end (Uhh)
Fruits of my labor, never later
Put it all in favors, yeah I need it now
Put the work in, put the worth in
Everything comes by the pound
Accolades, money trees for the shade
Sunshine, add it for a rainy day
They ain't never wan'na see a nigga win
White lies tryna hold us down again, uhh
Maximize on the pain, lock our minds like a chain
Felonizing my name, publicizing the shame
Falsifying the game, jeopardizing the same
Same shit, same this, same that
Same black skin, hold my frontline tryna set niggas free
Strange fruits hanging from the poplar tree
Traumatized that it could've been me
Could've been you, could've been two
Could've been her, could've been him, could've been them
But I gotta pick the fruits for 'em
Then sweet taste of the gems
Make it happen for me and mine
Mr. dufflebag show 'em how we grind
Closed mouths don't get fed but yo lips too loose
Off wit'cho head it's too big for the noose
Y'all think I'm rapping that sweet shit
Soon as my lips get to spitting someone on the news
Y'all got the blues you looking for clues
These cappers can't hang pick a new execute
I wash the blood off my lyrical thumbs
Y'all scrolling through feeds I'm picking my fruits
Credits
Writer(s): Tyler Johnson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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