Lyrics:
surprise horses in this stable
Just two albums in, I'm the realest nigga on this label
Mr. Black President, yeah Obama for real
They gotta put ya face
in jail
Tryna make a plate anybody seen the scale
Lets go!
My president is black, my Lambo's blue
And I be god damn if my rims ain't too
My
of
Champagne in the $400 range when he's
In album mode, he spends every
Night in the studio
Usually working until seven
Or eight in the morning and sleeping
in jail
Tryna make a plate anybody seen the scale
Lets go!
My president is black, my Lambo's blue
And I be god damn if my rims ain't too
My
can't compete
(100) all by myself, I'm 100 deep
I was on the first 50
Now the powers at a dollar
Politician pushing tracks in it, mayor
I president in it
Homie, you ain't hitting on nothin'
Drop that top when I hit that butt
Pimp so hard it's a full time job
Swear, 12 stacks in my glove box
Bitch niggas,
albums in, I'm the realest nigga on this label
Mr. Black President, yo Obama for real
They gotta put your face on the five-thousand dollar bill
[Hook]
in jail
Tryna make a plate anybody seen the scale
Lets go!
My president is black, my Lambo's blue
And I be god damn if my rims ain't too
My
can be is what I am and who I am
Chasing women when I should be recording
Invite a couple then I invite some more in
Next thing you know it's 3 in
tits
We got this, free on the mic, keep it tight all night
Hold it up right
My flow keep it, go, beetroot chips break the ice
And Mr. President, I
scared
Of what I might become or that my
Ideology might actually fall through and
Become a big success in the end
When everybody is looking at
You like
gravitated toward my ment-ality
My spiritual stamina
(God)
I've been praying Mr. Lamar
I promise
Spitting scripture on script
Splitting heads when I shift
But
I just got off facetime with my whole damn family
They told me stay in college I just want a Grammy
President Stanley probably want to ban me
Monica
when you makin' the shot
It's still a miss to me (Yeah)
I'm CT fletcher, mixed with a little Mr t
(Uh, huh) you on The Shade Room just hoping
That you
Rewind the clip
Yeah, I'll start by taking back
It's Spring of '17
Sitting shotgun there in my car
You said celebrities are sad, no matter how big or small
platinum
We know the presidents are flowin' by who's sackin' them
I'm that type of guy when poppa wasn't happy with it
Trippin' them up, that was my
it spin
I'm from the city where they
Sold out the residents
Larenz Tate
Face paint
Dead presidents
James Brown
Arsenio in the trunk
Jimi wit the semi
Poetic on wax
Relax
Just let it spin
I'm from the city where they
Sold out the residents
Larenz Tate
Face paint
Dead presidents
James Brown
Arsenio in
I ain't got a dang thing for them ones in red caps
The slogan on that hat won't my president who said that
It won't my president who said that
And I
that it's not a burden, why?
Because I rap in cursive
They treat my lyrics like the Bible
The OG and the King James Version
This colloquial
My verses
whole album
I don't need to no one to cope for that
When you know that I'm the baddest like what up
I'm just sittin' on back
Watchin' this game fall
listening to wings on a pyramid. You know, this is my love album. I told myself, if I was a billionaire, what would I do? I told myself I would make a love
than the G you were bred to be
I should be out for presidents to represent me
And if they don't rep it right, take the presidency
When I was a young man,
I got my own flaws too
We all human so don't let the ubsa judge you
Raised by horny teens who would fake love you
Dark skin starting to think that
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