Lyrics Friends - AlphaCub, Oncue

Friends

Sorry this ain’t back pack, Sorry this ain’t frat rap
This might seem abstract
All I got are sick lines it’s Anthrax on Amtrak
We about to win I said
«Where the fuck those hands at?»
Your girl and her friends?
I don’t know what do wit em
No one taken our lane
See we Drivin drunk taken up two of em
I didn’t move out to Brooklyn to be a hipster
Moved to Brooklyn to see the big picture
Only when you leave, thats when they wanna miss ya
But when your there for 'em, all they wanna do is diss ya
And never call you again, if you don’t deliver
So let’s sip the elixir
Call the waitress and tip her
Don’t hit me on Twitter
When you see me getting bigger
I don’t no more friends
All I want are those figures
See the thing is, all they doing is imitating
But down the road they fuckin themselves
It’s masturbation
They ain’t real, they ain’t real — see It’s only entertainment
They ain’t in the streets
If they’re backs laying on the pavement
Talk shit, it ain’t me — But I do it on occasion
And I’m cockin back and aiming at all y’all who’s lamin
Claimin fame goin down the drain
Man, You ain’t shit
You a dame, only a stain see me I’m the shit
I can see through your bullshit
Running in the air, and I don’t really care cause
All I need
Is real people, and real music and real people
And no I don’t want new friends
Cause I don’t wanna feel like I have to pretend
Cause all I need
Is real people, and real music and real people
They say «Cuey, Mr. OnCue
You smooth as silk»
Meanwhile I’m sippin black coffee can’t afford milk
They be sweatin me tellin me I’m a pimp
But the only thing In my pockets is wrappers and lint
She couldn’t do it, neither could she
Neither could this jager, neither could this weed
Every weekend I rage
Wake up Sunday
Facing minimum wage
Shit I need to get paid
Last night I got laid
But what did it do for me?
Except, I don’t gotta click on YouPorn this morning
I’m torn between tourin and dormin and soarin to the top
My father always said «shit» or «get off the pot!»
This whole time I wasn’t bitin'
I was writin for the enlightened
So when you smell my shit, is when I start wipin
I’ve been steadily, heavenly on my grind
So when time I either shine or go lose my mind
Can you tell these other rappers
I’ma fuck the game backwards
Go ahead pigeon hole me
Homie you don’t even know me
You ain’t competition you a cronie
Of a bum, mama look what I’ve become
They googlin me like crack heads, look at your youngest son
So stop with the comparisons
Don’t know what they talkin bout yeah
They Sarah Palin and I realize these rappers suck they own dick
Manson, Marilyn
Your girls doing my work at the Sheridan
I ain’t being arrogant, I got soul in me, it’s been apparent since
They wanted to buy me out like Merrill Lynch
I ain’t forfeiting some flowers and a coffin in a Hearse
Would be more fitting than this white collar ball licking
Wake up and look at the life we’re all living
You can’t trust no one any far as you could throw em
Watch me crash down as I move up on this totem
Nah I don’t know 'em I told’em
Yeah I swore I fucking told’em like