Wrist

Back and forth thinkin' 'bout tryna quite my day job
Then I think about all the bills I have to pay off
Couple millions streams on Spotify don't mean much
Industry grivin' out cashews, can't deceive us
Why I gotta sell my image to build fanbase?
Why is everybody so hyped up on ad space?
Every time I open up 'Gram, it's competition
Double dirty dishes, it's really about the Kingdom
None of this is worth my soul, not a penny
Rap game really a prison, my dawg, trully
Numbers don't lie, but they really could corrupt a clean heart
I spit love and free cagebirds, okay, bars

Don't hate with me, dawg
A beacon of light, the rap game is full of fog
It's a game of tennisI love God, no, I don't regret it

It's all in the wrist, okay
Wrist, okay, wrist, okay
Wrist, okay, wrist, okay
Wrist, okay, wrist, okay
It's all in the wrist, okay
Wrist, okay, wrist, okay
Wrist, okay, wrist, okay

Seated in glory no man could measure
Couldn't find peace in sex, drugs or vain pleasure
Off beat, my dawg, my cadence slap like concrete
Blood wash away, my sin black like coffee
Glorify de grind, but the Indie life is hellish
No cap flow, but Elohim takes all the credit
Why you say your song for people who spit venom?
Pointin' to the Cross and tellin' 'em 'bout repentance
One God under the sun, His name is Jesus
Three in one, That's Gorrila Glue, cohesion
Sin seperates since Adam, Eve, and Eden
God sent his Son to close, cast in and defect

Don't hate with me, dawg
A beacon of light, The rap game is full of fog
It's a game of tennis
Man, I don't think you get it

It's all in the wrist, okay
Wrist, okay, wrist, okay
Wrist, okay, wrist, okay
Wrist, okay, wrist, okay
It's all in the wrist, okay
Wrist, okay, wrist, okay
Wrist, okay, wrist, okay



Credits
Writer(s): Jerry Young, Andrew Kint
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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