Too Late French Montana (Ft. Jim Jones)

[Intro: Florence Welch, Jim Jones & French Montana]
Dipset, Coke Boys
Something epic, you know?
French, what up? BX, what up?
Harlem, what's bangin'?
Lost in the fog, these hollow hills (Haha)
Blood running hot, night chills (It's power in we)
So long and lost, are you missing me? (You gettin' money or lookin' funny, huh? Huh?)
Is it too late to come on home? (Huh?)
Is it too late to come on home?
Can the city forgive? I hear it's a sad song (Holla at me, uh)

[Verse 1: French Montana]
Through the fire, right through the fall
Big bag like Santa Claus
New sauce for the summer sauce
Marching band, we the drummer boys
And tell the crib I'm on the way back
Though walked to my goals, took the plane back
And they prayed he ain't came back
All Rocky like A$AP
Un-decisive, persuasive, face lift
Top down, ageless, timeless, stone age
Running out of patience, serving up the patients
No navigation, grind like bad brakes
Eating lobster with the crabs, that's the bad taste
Same niggas on the rise still from the bad days
Niggas on the rat race
Same niggas laughing at us started laughing with us
'Cause all the slammed doors turned to Lamb', Porsches