[Intro]
Yeah
You know what I'm talkin' about
It's a trip when you're goin' down
And you got all 'em suckers around
You know what I'm talkin' about
But what's really fucked up
Is when you get up off your ass
Them same suckers that wanted to see you finish
Now they got to see you winnin'
And they got to see you winnin'
Tabernacle cathedral
[Verse 1: Rittz]
Ain’t shit changed, but the time on the wrist watch
And my shit might rhyme, to design this [?] hoodie, they send another gift box
Not the type of rapper you gon’ find inside a thrift shop
Running to the money like a pitboss (whoa!)
Taking trips cross-country, My inbox full of titty pics, make a pit stop
You can see the lip prints on my dick from your lip gloss
Pimp shit, bitches always looking shocked, tell ‘em get lost
My celebrity affectin’ me, somebody must have tipped off people where I live
See them riding by my crib with they phone, poppin’ flix off, getting flicked off
I’ma upgrade soon, 'cause I just made 200,000 every time I check my balance
I’m astounding, counting down my racks, I’m 'bout to lift off
NASA, plasma TV 65 inch, class of 98’, skated out in 96’
Glass of Crown Royal, splash of a lime
Whizz, Massive amounts of gas, used to have to buy mids
Used to have to fry fish, thinking how can I fit all this shit inside this
Dumpster without having to dive in, making $9 an hour
I barely had enough to buy cigs
And I ain’t trying to say that I’m rich, but I ain’t trippin' on no ‘Port package
Livin’ more lavish, New York status
Got the horseradish and the Au Jus on the side of my prime rib
I’m just proud of what I did
When people see you living better, they [?] lots of Dry Gin
But I ain’t finna let 'em nestle under my skin
Game over, I win in the end 'cause
Yeah
You know what I'm talkin' about
It's a trip when you're goin' down
And you got all 'em suckers around
You know what I'm talkin' about
But what's really fucked up
Is when you get up off your ass
Them same suckers that wanted to see you finish
Now they got to see you winnin'
And they got to see you winnin'
Tabernacle cathedral
[Verse 1: Rittz]
Ain’t shit changed, but the time on the wrist watch
And my shit might rhyme, to design this [?] hoodie, they send another gift box
Not the type of rapper you gon’ find inside a thrift shop
Running to the money like a pitboss (whoa!)
Taking trips cross-country, My inbox full of titty pics, make a pit stop
You can see the lip prints on my dick from your lip gloss
Pimp shit, bitches always looking shocked, tell ‘em get lost
My celebrity affectin’ me, somebody must have tipped off people where I live
See them riding by my crib with they phone, poppin’ flix off, getting flicked off
I’ma upgrade soon, 'cause I just made 200,000 every time I check my balance
I’m astounding, counting down my racks, I’m 'bout to lift off
NASA, plasma TV 65 inch, class of 98’, skated out in 96’
Glass of Crown Royal, splash of a lime
Whizz, Massive amounts of gas, used to have to buy mids
Used to have to fry fish, thinking how can I fit all this shit inside this
Dumpster without having to dive in, making $9 an hour
I barely had enough to buy cigs
And I ain’t trying to say that I’m rich, but I ain’t trippin' on no ‘Port package
Livin’ more lavish, New York status
Got the horseradish and the Au Jus on the side of my prime rib
I’m just proud of what I did
When people see you living better, they [?] lots of Dry Gin
But I ain’t finna let 'em nestle under my skin
Game over, I win in the end 'cause
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