On The Clock
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
You know it
August cold on these beats like it's February nigga (bitch I got your, bitch)
Bitch I got your, bitch
Currently on my thirty-second hour
Fresh off a Wendy's breakfast trip with the strawberry lemonade
You know it
Hustle going stupid
You ain't doing it for your people what you doing it for
Freebirdz forever
This my life on the clock
Money and bitches, bitches and money as the ticks tock
This ain't no photo op, no dance, no fifteen seconds of fame
My DNA stamped they know the fam is the gang
In the streets hitting like I'm Willie Mays
I'm one of them ones, they never mention but they won't play on my name
You put your fave in my presence now he slain
Karats singing to your bitch like I'm Eddie Kane
Say she feel like going home
Nights like these I flex my expertise with this game
Go to know all the parts, read the room don't skip a page
Say she wanna kick it, smoke this dosha and indulge in my business
Bitch you trippin', I ain't one of them lames that's in your inbox
Better pace yourself, these buds ain't come from out no zip lock
I'm him baby, Freebird Ramon I can't be xeroxed
Pressure from the Jordan's to the dread locs, that straight drop
Money and bitches
Weed, pistols and liquor
Out of the way of these niggas
Making moves of a winner (This my life on the clock)
Niggas hating they bitter
These scriptures ain't artificial
This one hundred no filter
Keep some motion, get richer
Winning casually, this stench don't ever wear off
It's a masterpiece she drawn to it, this that fine art
From the start to this present day remained solid amongst knockoffs
Never envy shit is in me, stepping like the big dawg
Whole flow on fentanyl
Addicted to the grind like it's menthol
Super plugged, I can get you more dishes than Chris Paul
For me, these soldiers running through a brick wall
She with me, then it's lift off
She geeking off this Chemdawg
The son of a deacon and the brother of a pimp
You won't make it through this smoke if you playin' on my brim
Digits on my mental manifesting how I live
It's non-fiction in these hymns, too authentic to be filmed, yeah
Money and bitches
Weed, pistols and liquor
Out of the way of these niggas
Making moves of a winner (this my life on the clock)
Niggas hating they bitter
These scriptures ain't artificial
This one hundred no filter
Keep some motion, get richer (this my life on the clock)
Money and bitches
Weed, pistols and liquor
Out of the way of these niggas
Making moves of a winner (this my life on the clock)
Niggas hating they bitter
These scriptures ain't artificial
This one hundred no filter
Keep some motion, get richer
You know it
Yeah, yeah
Bitch I got your, bitch
Bitch I got your, bitch
Bitch I got your, bitch
You know it
August cold on these beats like it's February nigga (bitch I got your, bitch)
Bitch I got your, bitch
Currently on my thirty-second hour
Fresh off a Wendy's breakfast trip with the strawberry lemonade
You know it
Hustle going stupid
You ain't doing it for your people what you doing it for
Freebirdz forever
This my life on the clock
Money and bitches, bitches and money as the ticks tock
This ain't no photo op, no dance, no fifteen seconds of fame
My DNA stamped they know the fam is the gang
In the streets hitting like I'm Willie Mays
I'm one of them ones, they never mention but they won't play on my name
You put your fave in my presence now he slain
Karats singing to your bitch like I'm Eddie Kane
Say she feel like going home
Nights like these I flex my expertise with this game
Go to know all the parts, read the room don't skip a page
Say she wanna kick it, smoke this dosha and indulge in my business
Bitch you trippin', I ain't one of them lames that's in your inbox
Better pace yourself, these buds ain't come from out no zip lock
I'm him baby, Freebird Ramon I can't be xeroxed
Pressure from the Jordan's to the dread locs, that straight drop
Money and bitches
Weed, pistols and liquor
Out of the way of these niggas
Making moves of a winner (This my life on the clock)
Niggas hating they bitter
These scriptures ain't artificial
This one hundred no filter
Keep some motion, get richer
Winning casually, this stench don't ever wear off
It's a masterpiece she drawn to it, this that fine art
From the start to this present day remained solid amongst knockoffs
Never envy shit is in me, stepping like the big dawg
Whole flow on fentanyl
Addicted to the grind like it's menthol
Super plugged, I can get you more dishes than Chris Paul
For me, these soldiers running through a brick wall
She with me, then it's lift off
She geeking off this Chemdawg
The son of a deacon and the brother of a pimp
You won't make it through this smoke if you playin' on my brim
Digits on my mental manifesting how I live
It's non-fiction in these hymns, too authentic to be filmed, yeah
Money and bitches
Weed, pistols and liquor
Out of the way of these niggas
Making moves of a winner (this my life on the clock)
Niggas hating they bitter
These scriptures ain't artificial
This one hundred no filter
Keep some motion, get richer (this my life on the clock)
Money and bitches
Weed, pistols and liquor
Out of the way of these niggas
Making moves of a winner (this my life on the clock)
Niggas hating they bitter
These scriptures ain't artificial
This one hundred no filter
Keep some motion, get richer
You know it
Yeah, yeah
Bitch I got your, bitch
Bitch I got your, bitch
Bitch I got your, bitch
Credits
Writer(s): Brandin Ross
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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