| Yeah—shit, nigga—we all dream, nigga
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| Yeah, we’re just tryna make sure they come true, feel me?
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| Dreams of being rich, uh?
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| Yeah, yeah, ha, yo!
|
| Always had dreams of being rich, uh?
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| Momma never thought I’ll make it this way
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| Bitches really on my dick now
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| When I think about it, ain’t shit changed
|
| We had dreams of being rich, wow!
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| We really dream of being rich, wow!
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| Momma never…
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| Yo, yo.
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| Imagine if I stopped rhymin' and settle for top ramen
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| Got content with the crib that my pop’s lie in, never stop moppin'
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| On that nine to five job shit, fuck that!
|
| I’d rather go comic and go to Gotham
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| And meet with Batman and start robbin'
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| Killin' get started, heart throbbin' be cautious
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| If you come across this instrumental’s carcass
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| It may leave you nauseous
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| 'Cause when I’m on it, it’s guaranteed death, why?
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| 'Cause we always had dreams of being rich
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| Rollie on my arm, Jesus' pieces on my neck
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| Momma needin' the rent, Poppa drinking a fifth
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| Crash my Momma’s Honda, can’t even lease her a whip
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| Stress is hell, but you couldn’t tell, even if you snitched
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| Smiling, always see him with a grin
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| But I came to raise hell, boy, and evil is within man
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| All I know, is that bitch better have my money
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| Cause money issues have your mom’s act funny wit’you
|
| We had dreams of being rich, uh?
|
| Always had dreams of being rich, wow!
|
| Bitches on my dick now
|
| When I think about it, ain’t shit changed
|
| I’m trying to get my money pass so closer to a pharaoh’s
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| I know that I can get close I’mma show her i’mma get dough
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| Nigga I don’t ride, I get chauffered on the metro
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| Poor nigga, rich mind, it won’t hurt if you let go of reality I’m searching for
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| a battle, jeez
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| But no one’s here to challenge me
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| Throwin' a lot of shots and they fatal ones
|
| Trust no nigga, even the devil had a halo once
|
| The demons carry angel dust, stressin' I know
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| I got to pick my ankles up but this lean in this Sprite soda got me talking
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| like Yoda
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| Don’t ever live my life sober
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| Oooh, I love it when they doubt me
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| Cash right where my mouth be, check my stomach for the hunger
|
| Don’t laugh at the outie
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| My boy frank in the Audi
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| Scoop me up we outtie, bumpin' music loudly, crazy how lousy these niggas
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| soundin'
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| I heard these niggas talkin' and never talk around me
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| Nigga you listen to Casey Veggies, you ain’t about beef
|
| Are you scary?
|
| But I’m more than scary
|
| To the ordinary storytelling motherfucking author
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| Cooking up some shit your stomach could never process
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| My apron dirty really need to wash it
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| Cause Cozz is heading to the top
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| Watch whenever my shit drop I don’t know when
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| But I’m never counting losses
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| Only counting my profit, nigga, stop it
|
| Got niggas noz sick, motherfucker always had—
|
| Dreams of being rich, wow!
|
| Always had dreams of being rich, uh?
|
| Momma never thought I’d make it this way
|
| Momma never thought I’d make it this way
|
| I know we got dreams of being rich
|
| The rollie on my arm, the pieces on my neck
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| Poppa needin' a rent |