| I used to work for people, I made a couple hundred dollars
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| Wasn’t worth it even, I’m worth a hundred thousand
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| Not dollars but diamonds, I am mud out the bayou
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| Rip a page out the Bible, come and crucify me
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| I’m a long way from home and this ain’t Yellowstone
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| I trade a white bitch for catfish and yellow bones
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| This from the catacombs, this for the broken homes
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| From the south side of cities where my granny home
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| I moved to California, I bring a Grammy home
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| I call up the bill collectors, «leave my fuckin' family 'lone»
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| We left the corner store on the way to caviar
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| The coupe is mustard colored, what the fuck is Grey Poupon
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| Young K.A., never quit your day job
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| I bring the love to work, I need the day off, uh
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| I need the, hard work should pay off, uh
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| The lights stay off until my mind is made up, uh
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| A young Zuckerberg, I wake up and make stuff, uh
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| These niggas copy us, they really need to pay us, uh
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| I’m from the city where your neighbors fight back
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| You talkin' shit, we bring that work right to your lap
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| I love my niggas like white people love rap
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| We make this shit, you’ll probably never say I’m trap again
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| Walk through doors all my life (just to close them)
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| Torn down walls all my life (is to the other side)
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| (Uh) Feelin' the brand new feeling, feelin' the brand new feeling
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| (Uh) Feelin' the brand new feeling, feelin' the brand new feeling
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| (Uh) New feeling, had a new feeling, brand new feeling
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| (Uh) New feeling, had a new feeling, brand new, brand new
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| Back then when I was hustling, ain’t get no love from them (uh)
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| I paid my own bills and came up with the illest shit (uh)
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| I was tryna find a way to get my family out of it (uh)
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| Spent my days in basements tryna write a motherfuckin' hit
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| Nowadays he’s stumbling, they show such love to him
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| I shut it down to every show, I set the precedent
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| I’m just tryna show these niggas, life is on some other shit
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| Keep your head high, smile when the trouble rumblin'
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| I don’t do what they say, it’s unorthodoxed
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| Like bears sharing the porridge, just out with Goldilocks
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| Like Ozzy with no shares, need to call his parents
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| So fuck what I’m doing and fuck these damn critics
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| You should think for yourself, that shit is cancerous
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| Give my head rub, my fingers are fuckin' hair models
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| Middle finger, fuck the air up at all our concerts
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| Maybe if I cared less, I’d wear hair net
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| But now my eyes, ten million by twenty five
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| Dropped out, a lone star
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| Booked flight from lone star
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| Was working a couple jobs and quit, became a star |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song ALASKA , by - BROCKHAMPTON. Song from the album SATURATION III, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп