| Some want money and the power |
| I just want to get home safe and take a shower |
| Hang with the fam about a hour |
| Get back on my grind, ease my mind |
| I’m thinking stout, but might end up with a sour |
| If I walks it like I talks it, least I never was a coward |
| No matter what I get, all this shit is ours |
| And yeah I’ll take em now, if all we talking bout is flowers |
| Tomorrow’s never promised, all I am is honest |
| Started smoking CBD to chill out on the chronic |
| For a minute maybe 60, not loud its only whispering |
| I make this shit look easy from far away its glistening |
| Back when I was 16, learned a lot from listening |
| Turned it all to instinct, to one up all my rivals |
| Father was a deacon, but I barely read the Bible |
| The globe is cold and what I learned its all about survival… |
| Everyday I wake up |
| Gotta get my weight up |
| Just to get where I’m going… |
| Knowing that I’m up now |
| Every time I touch down |
| You can see the grain is showing |
| Rise and grind |
| Are you gone shine with me? |
| My state of mind |
| No you can’t fuck with me… |
| I’m in a country boy fit |
| Schlitz malt liquor shit |
| Chuck Taylor’s on |
| Po ballin' nigga shit |
| Neighbor just died |
| Who gone get the benefits |
| I grew up wit his kids so we all share the sentiments |
| Know we gone get drunk |
| Laugh cry and reminisce |
| Toast to the moment |
| I hope we grow from it |
| Cause every time I visit get a feeling in my stomach |
| We always kept it honest |
| But relationships tarnish |
| Small town stories getting |
| Documented poorly |
| The truth will make it to the mainstream one day surely |
| Georgia bulldog license plate on the bumper |
| Still can hear coach |
| Don’t Fade on ya jumper |
| Kinda feelin' boujie |
| Went out here eatin' sushi |
| Far from the bar with cheap shots and a Lucy |
| Now we on the beach in this bitch drinking Truly’s |
| Looking up at the stars from bed of a dually like |
| Everyday I wake up |
| Gotta get my weight up |
| Just to get where I’m going… |
| Knowing that I’m up now |
| Every time I touch down |
| You can see the grain is showing |
| Rise and grind |
| Are you gone shine with me? |
| My state of mind |
| No you can’t fuck with me… |
| Packs in pick and roll, Stockton to Malone |
| On the way to Utah, all that Jazz |
| She from Macon, all that ASS |
| I’m Mr. Fat Face, all that’s CASH |
| Street sweeper take out the trash |
| Dope boy fresh about a brick and a half |
| Please pardon the particulars |
| Plush custom leathers, tethered analogies, made for TV |
| Fly personality, the South Sides pride |
| The anthology, put that record back on |
| It’s a classic 45 smooth R&B move |
| We the Spinners, blue suede shoes |
| But these SB’s, yee ain’t got these |
| Loud marijuana imported from California |
| Long story short, this is all I got to say |
| Went from worst class to first class |
| What a day |
| Oh, you tried to take em down but you know I’m all about the motion |
| And people all around steady yelling how they know that I’m the coldest |
| Yeah I made a way, yeah I’m too bad |
| They trying to break me, know they mad |
| I know, oh oh oh |