| 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 twenty-five 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
|
| Let me take you niggas back to a much simpler time
|
| Picture yourself inside a vehicle, a ship in my mind
|
| You’ll see some childhood memories mixed with the cells of a don
|
| 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
|
| Then 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 Lamb', no sedan, fuck a Hummer truck
|
| I’m aiming 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
|
| My cousin shot, got me paranoid, who to trust or not
|
| Gave my brother twenty five 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 (Aye, uh-huh,
|
| yeah)
|
| 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 and 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 searching for the same shit
|
| Same niggas that I came with
|
| Premonitions over reminiscing, Lamb' truck how I lane switch |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Broke As Fuck , by - YBN Cordae. Song from the album The Lost Boy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп