CARTIER (Rap 4 Fuck)

Rap for the fuck of it
I don't make money from none of this shit
Still out here hustling
Doing dumbass jobs for the bullshit pay
But one of these days, I'm gonna get it my way
Invest in myself, my investment is safe
Every loser wanna call this lame
Just press play, I'll take your breathe away

Blowing out the speakers
Back to back, I'm smoking reefer
Turn a non to a believer
When I play that brand new feature
Pulling out the call receiver
Goddamn phone been off the ringer all day
Girls with little plastic bags of white powder, all K
I be stressing, antsy
The weed is all I fancy
But it still got me buggin
I had to leave the function
I got the speakers bustin
Get faded, I can't see nothin
So fuck the repercussions
Go stupid like the Russians

Post traumatic stress disorder
Cops just trying to get a quota
Every year a new Ebola
This is what the New World ordered
I grew up in Georgia, every father was like Herschel Walker
All my friends I'm loyal, wanna be sure to see you fuckers prosper
Leave it like the percentage I leave on a tip, one hundred
Okay I'm lying, I probably skip out a bit
I'm bluffing
So I'm far from venture capital
I probably need to sell an ounce or two
Like guess what bitch I'm going major
Ha ha ha ha, fuck you haters

Catch me on TV
Or milly rocking through the street
I'm not the one to start no beef
I'm trying to be all that I can be
All the shit that's coming true used to be a fantasy to me
If my younger self knew, than I'd be so fucking proud of me
I got to be, a la carte
Stunting on a jumbotron
Lambo on the autobahn
You get the picture, I want it all
I'm gonna fucking ball before it's time to go
So take your seat, let's start the show
You've never seen this type of glow
And my name is what you'll know
Wait, what's your name
T H Monroe, TH Monroe



Credits
Writer(s): Trevor Hyde
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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