| I was broke as fuck, down up on my ass
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| Had the lowest luck, used to ride the bike up to the store
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| I need a Rover truck, a Bentley coupe
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| Yeah, I’m wearin' Prada, I like Fendi too
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| Grandma passed, had a heart attack, only 62
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| My cousin shot, got me paranoid, who to trust or not
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| Gave my brother twenty-five years, that really sucked a lot
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| Post-traumatic stress is building up, you niggas so dramatic
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| Fuck these other niggas, I’m the illest, I’m the coldest at it
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| Let me take you niggas back to a much simpler time
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| Picture yourself inside a vehicle, a ship in my mind
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| You’ll see some childhood memories mixed with the cells of a don
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| You’ll see the doctor smack my ass when I first fell out my mom
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| A 'Magic School Bus' adventure trip inside my cerebral
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| Back when I told niggas 'I'll make it, swear' they didn’t believe him
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| Flashback to Brasstracks and we was playin', no problems
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| We was crankin' all the classics from the spring to the autumn
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| Then I said «Motherfuck, need a bad bitch with a tummy tuck»
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| How I make a million from a dollar? |
| It was dummy luck
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| Need a new Lamb', no sedan, fuck a Hummer truck
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| I’m aiming for the top, I’m steady climbing, fuck a runner-up
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| I was broke as fuck, down up on my ass
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| Had the lowest luck, used to ride the bike up to the store
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| I need a Rover truck, a Bentley coupe
|
| Yeah, I’m wearin' Prada, I like Fendi too
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| Grandma passed, had a heart attack, only 62
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| My cousin shot, got me paranoid, who to trust or not
|
| Gave my brother twenty five years, that really sucked a lot
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| Post traumatic stress is building up, you niggas so dramatic
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| Fuck these other niggas, I’m the illest, I’m the coldest at it (Aye, uh-huh,
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| yeah)
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| Mom and dad never had a damn thing, damn shame
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| Now I’m poppin' champagne on a private jet, fuck an airplane
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| Order Bossa Nova, eating plantains
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| Presidential Rollie, fuck a campaign
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| Impeach, nigga, ten deep, nigga
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| Remember days we was wearin' J’s and a gold chain and only had three figures
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| So fortunate, proportionate, 'Lost Boy', nigga, no coordinates
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| Remember Christmas? |
| We was giftless, three-foot tree, no ornaments
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| Pull my dick out, hoes swarmin' it, flow cold, nigga, no warmin' it
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| Mama couldn’t afford AAU, so we couldn’t hoop, nigga, no tournaments
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| I remember days sippin' lemonade
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| Ice cream truck gettin' plenty paid
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| Candy lady had Jolly Ranchers, I don’t really have a lot of answers
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| I’m just searching for the same shit
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| Same niggas that I came with
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| Premonitions over reminiscing, Lamb' truck how I lane switch |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Broke As Fuck, artist - YBN Cordae. Album song The Lost Boy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп