Prophet Talk

People calling me crazy, I'm back having conversations with microphones
And it's keeping me sane
Use it to cope, I be filling verses with hope but I got my back on the ropes
How the fuck I deal with the pain?
Some time ago, I wanted to blow out my brain
They didn't know cause I kept my hurt on the low
Write my feelings down in my notes all because I'm tryna refrain
From expressing my feelings and feeling less of a man
I be feeling like Michael, some days I feel like Jermaine
Got some homies like Samuel
In the midst of an L, they might go hit 'em a lil stain and just Jack some'
Momma said, "Yeah you smart, but Trè, you don't know jack, son"
Will she say that the day that we up like the Jetsons?

Pray that you ready for me the day that the check come
I'm aiming this Lil Tecca at all of your favorite rappers
I hold 'em for ransom
Treat the wins like some fun, it ain't fun if the homies can't have none
If you won and your brothers lost, nigga you ain't won
Niggas be in my face talkin' bout what I ain't done
If you stepped in my shoes, you wouldn't even be able to run
Wouldn't be able to walk
Can't even talk like I talk
I got beef with the time
I be punching the clock
Treat this shit like a job
Like it's my 9-5
We let niggas think they fly then shoot they ass out the sky
I ain't gotta do a lot, I know they feeling my vibe
Pen I got, it came from Harvard, y'all got y'all's from DeVry
Mashallah, me and my momma taking trips to Dubai
We ain't rich yet, but I swear we manifesting the life
I ain't living on the gram, I be living with the fam, that's true
I ain't tryna do what they do
Yeah, yeah, I got an ex but she ain't leave a mark on my spot, she foo
Turned her to a fan, shit cool
I just bring the heat like Bam and Two-Two
Niggas acting sweet, give they ass a tutu
Brodie came to me, said he got a little plan to run up a couple bands
I said, "yeah, you too?"

Let's go to DR, tell Pamela Chu-chu
Fuck with the Zoes, put me on the voodoo
Got to Paris for the Eiffel Tower view
I'ma go to Italy just to fuck with the food
I'm not a gangster, just got a nice flow
Tryna tell the street niggas fuck a rifle, there's more to life though
Fuck a homicide, let's go and cop the suicide doors
Every day, the money getting printed, what's a rival?
I'm tryna duck the paparazzi, fuck 5-0
I got power shining on me, that's wherever I go
All that hating make you sick, better have kept the Lysol
We just tryna run it up like it's in the Bible

Got too much to worry 'bout, I'm saying
So why make matters worse and worry 'bout you?
Time and time again, you test my patience
This time 'round, I'll show you what I'm gon' do



Credits
Writer(s): Trè Thompson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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