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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
| Song: | Broke As Fuck |
| Album: | The Lost Boy | Genres: | |
| Year: | | Length: | 196 sec |
Lyrics:
Yeah, uh, yeah (Daytrip took it to ten, hey) I was broke as fuck, down up on my ass, had the lowest luck Used to ride the bike up to the store, I need a Rover truck A Bentley coupe, yeah, I'm wearin' Prada, I like Fendi too Grandma passed, had a heart attack, only 62 My cousin shot, got me paranoid, who to trust or not Gave my brother 25 years, that really sucked a lot Post-traumatic stress is building up, you niggas so dramatic Fuck these other niggas, I'm the illest, I'm the coldest at it (Yeah, uh) Let me take you niggas back to a much simpler time Picture yourself inside a vehicle, a ship in my mind (Yeah) You'll see some childhood memories mixed with the cells of a don (Yeah) You'll see the doctor smack my ass when I first fell out my mom A Magic School Bus adventure trip inside my cerebral Back when I told niggas I'll make it, swear they didn't believe him Flashback to Brasstracks and we was playin' 'No Problems' We was crankin' all the classics from the spring to the autumn And I said motherfuck, need a bad bitch with a tummy tuck How I make a million from a dollar? It was dummy luck Need a new Lam', no sedan, fuck a Hummer truck I'm aimin' for the top, I'm steady climbing, fuck a runner-up I was broke as fuck, down up on my ass, had the lowest luck Used to ride the bike up to the store, I need a Rover truck A Bentley coupe, yeah, I'm wearin' Prada, I like Fendi too Grandma passed, had a heart attack, only 62 (Skrt, skrt) My cousin shot, got me paranoid, who to trust or not Gave my brother 25 years, that really sucked a lot Post-traumatic stress is building up, you niggas so dramatic Fuck these other niggas, I'm the illest, I'm the coldest at it, ayy Uh-huh (Hey) Yeah
Woo Uh, yeah, uh Mom and dad never had a damn thing, damn shame Now I'm poppin' champagne on a private jet, fuck an airplane Order Bossa Nova, eating plantains Presidential Rollie, fuck a campaign Impeach, nigga, ten deep, nigga Remember days we was wearin' J's And a gold chain, only had three figures So fortunate, proportionate Lost boy, nigga, no coordinates Remember Christmas? We was giftless Three foot tree, no ornaments Pull my dick out, hoes swarmin' it Flow cold, nigga, no warmin' it Mama couldn't afford AAU So we couldn't hoop, nigga, no tournaments I remember days sippin' lemonade Ice cream truck gettin' plenty paid Candy lady had Jolly Ranchers I don't really have a lot of answers I'm just searchin' for the same shit Same niggas that I came with Premonitions over reminiscin' Lam' truck how I lane switch, ah
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