Lyrics These Saturdays - Fudge, Michael Christmas, Pervana

These Saturdays

Now I’m flying, soaring
Now I’m out
These Saturdays, these Saturdays
I feel like Young Joc
No more magic ooh ooh ooh
These Saturdays, these Saturdays
Yeah
Now I said back the fuck off of me, I’m drunk
These Saturdays, these Saturdays
Think I’m Paul McCartney, Kanye
These Saturdays, these Saturdays
Saturday morning, watching my new shit
Being a nuisance, mama might lose it
She be complaining that I ain’t do dishes
But I got cereal waiting and I got to get it
Criss-cross how I’m sitting
This Xbox ain’t stopping, this (?) juice hitting
And now when its Saturday morning I got me a headache from sinning
Parlay with police, don’t want go to prison
They pulled us over 'cause they think we niggas
They look for guns, all we got is some slippers
Searching for (?) like the biggest contender
Ey
Ey
Now I’m back at it, craftmatic
Wasn’t running, asthmatic
Saturday my ass napping
All defense on, ask Madden
Little ass nigga had to grew up quick
MTV jams, I seen screwed up click
If I go out Imma do dumb shit
Somethings won’t change and I knew that shit
They try and kill us, candy and soda
They pull us over, filling that quota
Mama be worried, I don’t be sober
She never lying, but it ain’t over