Crying At The Discoteque

Stutterin'

Givin'em rest and makin' love again

In my best I be the run again

And I have the man dem stutterin'

I'm getting this ***** in the morning

He gon' think he been chiefin just too long when

He see me in the evenin'

Want to catch all these feelin

Well let me be the first to get mine

Ay yo, ay yo, barbeque and blow in the back of the crib

Sittin’and countin’, smoking a spliff, this ****’s a gift

All my ****** watches is rough

Grabbing our crotches yelling ‘’What up?’’

The jeans cost $500? ****

Stop it, keep baking, see, the smell it’s a statement

One freeze of this ****, you won’t feel your legs kid

I’m a gangsta corporate hustla, my voice is illustrious

Hounded by vicious dons, ***** we armed, trust me bruh

They yellin' Chef, kill the plate with the cooks

I say 'Ye with 2 Chainz on, we Common, let's Push

Burn another bush, then burn another we brothers

Love us or not, the Mark Zuckerbergs of the block

Hug a knot, staying rich, we was built for the guap

Park the green six deuce on the deuce just props

Rock a kilt, mean Glock I’m all machinery, ock

Cling to me, now see how the scenery rock?

I’m getting this ***** in the morning

He gon’ think he been chiefin just too long when

He see me in the evenin’

Want to catch all these feelin

Well let me be the first to get mine

I was born by a late chicken shack and a church

That mean the flow got wings and it come from the dirt

Golly, I know she wanna test the ‘Rari

Eye on a dollar like Illuminati

Life is foggy, tryin’ to see through the mist of it

Could have been livin’ it, you was Mrs. Mischievous

This is just a letter to better your development

Situation delicate

Some claim God body, blame Illuminati

All cause his pockets now knotty as his hair

Yeah

All Sonny no Cher, only solitaires

You cluster****s could cluster up

On tippy-toe and still not muster up so its

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

In God we trust, the game is all us

Til’ the sky calls or its flames on us

Push

I’m getting this ***** in the morning

He gon’ think he been chiefin just too long when

He see me in the evenin’

Want to catch all these feelin

Well let me be the first to get mine

2 Chainz

I’m chillin’ in my camo, flippin’ through the channel

On my G.O.O.D. Music ****, my logo’s a Lambo (damn)

Four doors of ammo

Ammunition I’m pitchin’ to make your body switch another position

I hope the people is listening

I could never sell my soul, I gave it back to God at my christening

Its tickelin’ when I hear what haters be whisperin’

What makes you think an Illuminati would ever let some ****** in?

Fake friends and siblings, like to wish you well but ain’t never flip the nickel in

Haters wanna pull they pistol when they see me in this race car

But you can’t spell war without an A-R

15 I was pushing carts at K-Mart

By 21 they said I’d be inside a graveyard

Can’t wait to get that black American Express

So I can show them white folks how to really pull the race card

Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money *****?

(You sold your soul)

Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money *****?

(You sold your soul)

Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money *****?

(Naw man, mad people was frontin’

Aw man, made something from nothing)

I treat the label like money from my shows

G.O.O.D. would’ve been God except I added more o’s

If I knew she was cheatin’ I’d still’ve bought her more clothes

‘Cause I was too busy with my Baltimore- you know

Some people call that the art of war you know

I guess it depends what you fallin’ for

The clothes,cars, money, girls and the clothes

Aw money, you sold your soul

Nah man, mad people was ’frontin

God damn, we made something from nothing