Nebraskan Craftsman

Nebraskan craftsman
It's Cruisey Tha Junie
Yeah, yeah
Straight gritty braska shit man
Aye
Imma keep it a buck
The fuck you thoughta
Them chains on my neck made me hustle harder
Run the score up, we just wanna be some ballers
And if rillas fake, Imma cut em all off
Get the cake, get to the guala
Then disappear like Hoffa
Cold blooded, iguana
I done prayed with killers
And blazed with scholars

See I was tryna marry the game
With mary jane as my maid of honor
All my dues been paid, I promise
Check my bank, I just wanna see commas
Just a matter of timing
You might as well just give respect
Cuz I dont wanna get violent
I dont really wanna start firing
But Imma keep it on me
Just in case a lil pussy gon try me
Bomb it
Be like Osama cant find him
Diamond
In the rough, wait till they find me
Grinding
Never sell my soul
Can't buy me
Homie
Imma be stepping in Balenciagas
And Im just sippin on some Henny
Listening to Benny
Prolly make em envy
When they girl get a lil too friendly
But I dont need that, I just wanna count benjis
I was counting 448s on my digi
I just wanna buy jewelry
Girl I can't buy you no Fendi
I'm a country boy baby
You know how I get it
Still got visions of the Braska boy on top
They like Cruise how you did it
I dont know I aint did it yet
But when I do
I'll put the homies on
It's a bet
Keep the pressure, make em feel the threat
Good brain, she gave me intellect
White boy but she think I'm mixed
Cuz my fro growing like a Chia Pet
Lotta dudes looking like they rich
But behind the scenes, he in debt
Talkin bout they dont sleep
Boy them rhymes tired man
I think you need some rest
Bullet in the Desert Eagle nest
On the track with me
You gon need your best
Homie had the machine to make oil
We was getting reefer pressed
Up at the Sleep 4 Less
I ain't no killer but please dont mess
Smoke that killa just to ease my stress
Shawty she dripping wet
We gon leave a mess
From the bottom to the top man
We gon stay grindin'
Roll up some skunk and put my feet up
Up on the ottoman
And I do swear solemnly that

Imma keep it a buck
The fuck you thoughta
Them chains on my neck made me hustle harder
Run the score up, we just wanna be some ballers
And if rillas fake, Imma cut em all off
Get the cake, get to the guala
Then disappear like Hoffa
Cold blooded, iguana
I done prayed with killers
And blazed with scholars



Credits
Writer(s): Matthew Frerichs
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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