Lately
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Lately I've been by myself
And that's just what it is
Hard to believe these niggas
Boy they out here telling fibs
How you solid? But you faker than
A fucking wig
We to the crib
I'm break her like a fucking twig
Nigga claiming that he real
But we knowing that he ain't
I got real dirty money I can't go inside a bank
All my niggas war ready
All we missing is a tank
Know we stand on nation business
Leave you stiffer than a plank
Trap nigga heard my name was ringing bells
Real killers love revolvers
They ain't in to leaving shells
P pusher, Brodie
Out here getting rich off selling wells
I've been gaining all this weight
I'm getting money, can't you tell?
Now they see me going up and they
Be asking for a loan
Tell yo bitch get off my dick, man
She won't leave me alone
Well my bitch say, she so sick of me
Until a nigga bone
I'm the don inside this shit call me
Michael Corleone
Imma gram it by the pound,make a bo stretch, nigga
I'm cram it down her mouth and make her
Throat stretch, nigga
Brodie put a two on one to make the dope Stretch, nigga
Everytime I reup,could've bought a Rolex, Nigga
And that's really how I live
Put that money up so I can take care of
My kid
Took some fed chances from the shit
That I done did
Niggas worried bout some jewelry
I'm tryna buy a couple cribs
Lately I've been by myself
And that's just what it is
Hard to believe these niggas
Boy they out here telling fibs
How you solid? But you faker than
A fucking wig
We to the crib
I'm break her like a fucking twig
Nigga claiming that he real
But we knowing that he ain't
I got real dirty money I can't go inside a bank
All my niggas war ready
All we missing is a tank
Know we stand on nation business
Leave you stiffer than a plank
Trap nigga heard my name was ringing bells
Real killers love revolvers
They ain't in to leaving shells
P pusher, Brodie
Out here getting rich off selling wells
I've been gaining all this weight
I'm getting money, can't you tell?
Now they see me going up and they
Be asking for a loan
Tell yo bitch get off my dick, man
She won't leave me alone
Well my bitch say, she so sick of me
Until a nigga bone
I'm the don inside this shit call me
Michael Corleone
Imma gram it by the pound,make a bo stretch, nigga
I'm cram it down her mouth and make her
Throat stretch, nigga
Brodie put a two on one to make the dope Stretch, nigga
Everytime I reup,could've bought a Rolex, Nigga
And that's really how I live
Put that money up so I can take care of
My kid
Took some fed chances from the shit
That I done did
Niggas worried bout some jewelry
I'm tryna buy a couple cribs
Credits
Writer(s): Michael Allen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.