Lyrics:
I got by
Creflo pray Mike Vick payed bobby brown stray Whitney lost weight
Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write
That Mayweather money looking funny in
an album can change a nigga's life around
I got friends and bitches on my dick
But when they look at Richard all they see is Bushwick
Sometimes I don't know
don't hit me up first, man
Ya'll must got me confuse I take niggaz by two I break niggaz in two, man
Ya'll fake niggaz is thru I hear ya album is poo
don't touch the crown
By the way, that's Uncle Brown
A gyal dem a run me down, cuh
Ayy, look Stormz this is soul baby
The kind of soul that gave
Stella
Horí ti dom byt auto jak joint
Tancuj až kým nemáš krvavé nohy
Máme full house ty máš iba nízky pár
Máme soldout každý by chcel lístky k nám
Každý by
to do with defeats
I turn all of those to motivational musical speech
Oh, and by the way, guess what I'm doin' to eat?
Yup, rappin', who cares about
I got the glock with the dick and it match with my outfit
Could've killed a pussy rapper out Towson
I could get dee tranada knocked out by ronda
I'm the Orson Wells of the rap game
My debut album about to be my Citizen Kane
No disrespect to the greats
But I'm the greatest instead
I only call
Off my 9, off my roll
Have a toast
Off of 9, by the hour off payroll
Off the wage, on the wave
How it goes
Stream sales don't mean nothing
But a post
highlight
When it comes to money I am not shy
Counting the stars on the night sky
Wave at UFO when it passed by
Lonely night
Windows are open in the house
My
bigger dreams
I copped a house out in the hills just to switch scenes
And now they back home saying "How could Vic leave?"
I got Chicago on my mind like
house
To them niggaz down by the store
When niggaz say they like me
That's the same motherfuckers in the game that tried to shice me
Mama say boy you have
never thought the day he left the house he wouldn't be comin back home
I wonder when it's yo time to go, who gon protect you
See someone died in my
stadiums just like Billy Joel
Quincy Jones would be in my studio
Recording Phill Collins on the drums for my album
All paid for by my own discography
Oh
grounded
This beat and some loud
Y'all can catch my fragrance down-wind
Bags by the ounce
Still can't wrap my head around shit
Kicked outta Dad's house
Now
peters my CEO, suspect the most wonderful
Producer ive ever known
RQB Banjo to miss carol chukwura thank you for not kicking us out of your
House when
explode
We visit Grandma to have tea
But not like the tea from that King Diamond album "Them"
Where the house is like possessed and his grandma gives him
I've been a good all year, did all of my chores
I even took swept the whole house and mopped all of the floors
All the stockings is hung by the chimney
something and I got it covered
Somehow always rise above it
Why you think I got my head in the clouds on my last album cover?
The game is all mine and I'm
Felon, fights behind me on the intersection
Sex and drugs my anthology on perfection
Dress superb admired by conspirists
Who wanna try me but ain't high
stay in exclusive (Like what?)
I woke up in Louis, my shades by Gucci
(I'm stylin')
My neck is a jewel house (Uh)
I fuck with Baton Rouge, ayy
Shoutout
Breaking you boys off, Clover Geez in the house
What you know about the South, steady gripping that grain
Nigga sipping that drank, getting that money mayn
the car house and the smoke, with the dope money (c'mon)
All my niggas that died, over dope money (let's go)
Bust your nine niggas, side by side niggas
story
If you can visualize a downtown crowded street
Somebody was eatin' 'n saw P pull out his piece
And decided to reach
(Security yeah yeah)
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