Elevate
Ayy, when I elevate, I know it make em upset I could give it all away and still I'd be up next
Got a pendant for my neck, that shit cost me one check I could lose it all, but I still would make a comeback
Cook it up right, the fiends will make a run back Be out for two weeks, and they still gonna want that
Yeah, I can feel they want they buzz back My bro god been trippin', I'm like, chill, you got enough straps
Ayy, I'm tryna keep this shit classical Really bout my business, they be keepin' it too casual
Even if you broke, that ain't funny, but you laughable We was really trappin' 7th Street, Melrose Avenue
Like, take this bag and drop it off, I got a stack for you The fien bugs, we fucked around, we might've crashed a few
My little brother fucked around, he might've stabbed a dude We been through some shit, some of my guys took a slash or two
Ayy, but I ain't livin' like that Ayy, I can make a million off a rap
Diamonds on my baby while she sittin' on my lap Turn the Jansport to a Balenciaga bag
In the hood, we rollin' woods, they be dumb fat I missed a snap, call him back, you still want that
I been eatin', I already got my lunch packed I just put eleven different haters in my blunt wrap
Eleven hundred zips, we gon' make a bunch off that Eleven thousand on the chain, I have fun like that
Eleven million streams rappin', yeah, I jump like that You ain't think big, now you got your sons like that
We show love on the sack, the junkies come right back You can hear it in my songs where I'm from like that
You and your friends, y'all be cappin', I have one like that Sike, I'm trippin', nah, we got none like that
None of my homies fuck with you if you can't bust a move You wanna eat at this table, then bring your fuckin' food
I could really help you change your life, this shit ain't nothin' new I'm done wearin' red bottoms, Jordan got some comfy shoes
And I rock cargos with the black tee
I just put my bro on, he ain't even have to ask me
Since I'm on commission, ain't no limit, they can't cap me Two hundred grand direct deposited just last week
Went and bought a Porsche for my wife, cause she's a bad B
Blue hundreds in the safe, all these twenties got my racks green
Makin' twenty in a day like, how the hell is that clean? In a Beamer with my bae, her best friend in the backseat
Try to make a move, she like, don't you even ask me I make so much money, it look like I still trap weed
All of this success, the haters hope that I'm a crack fiend I could move my lips and make a flip, it's that easy
Got a pendant for my neck, that shit cost me one check I could lose it all, but I still would make a comeback
Cook it up right, the fiends will make a run back Be out for two weeks, and they still gonna want that
Yeah, I can feel they want they buzz back My bro god been trippin', I'm like, chill, you got enough straps
Ayy, I'm tryna keep this shit classical Really bout my business, they be keepin' it too casual
Even if you broke, that ain't funny, but you laughable We was really trappin' 7th Street, Melrose Avenue
Like, take this bag and drop it off, I got a stack for you The fien bugs, we fucked around, we might've crashed a few
My little brother fucked around, he might've stabbed a dude We been through some shit, some of my guys took a slash or two
Ayy, but I ain't livin' like that Ayy, I can make a million off a rap
Diamonds on my baby while she sittin' on my lap Turn the Jansport to a Balenciaga bag
In the hood, we rollin' woods, they be dumb fat I missed a snap, call him back, you still want that
I been eatin', I already got my lunch packed I just put eleven different haters in my blunt wrap
Eleven hundred zips, we gon' make a bunch off that Eleven thousand on the chain, I have fun like that
Eleven million streams rappin', yeah, I jump like that You ain't think big, now you got your sons like that
We show love on the sack, the junkies come right back You can hear it in my songs where I'm from like that
You and your friends, y'all be cappin', I have one like that Sike, I'm trippin', nah, we got none like that
None of my homies fuck with you if you can't bust a move You wanna eat at this table, then bring your fuckin' food
I could really help you change your life, this shit ain't nothin' new I'm done wearin' red bottoms, Jordan got some comfy shoes
And I rock cargos with the black tee
I just put my bro on, he ain't even have to ask me
Since I'm on commission, ain't no limit, they can't cap me Two hundred grand direct deposited just last week
Went and bought a Porsche for my wife, cause she's a bad B
Blue hundreds in the safe, all these twenties got my racks green
Makin' twenty in a day like, how the hell is that clean? In a Beamer with my bae, her best friend in the backseat
Try to make a move, she like, don't you even ask me I make so much money, it look like I still trap weed
All of this success, the haters hope that I'm a crack fiend I could move my lips and make a flip, it's that easy
Credits
Writer(s): Evan Stewart
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.