| The average person like Nard & B
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| Gon think this shit I’m talkin' bout made up
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| Or make believe or some shit
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| But nah man, this my everyday life dawg
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| Trenchwerk
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| I got some stories I’m tellin' but they not made up
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| Don’t try to dap me, just spare me, don’t want that fake love
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| 18 ain’t know ‘bout no Rollie, wanted a Jacob
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| So when I tell you this story know they not made up
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| Keep on my chain when I fuck her, bae yeah we made love
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| It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up
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| I told my mama go get it because she know I got it
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| Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it
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| We just extra flexin' (yeah)
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| Hundred racks on a necklace (ohh)
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| First time I got booked in Houston
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| Sold out show in Texas (sold out showing)
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| I couldn’t make no money off this at first
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| This shit was stressful (at first it was)
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| I was in these niggas face with my CD
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| Just like a freckle (aye, aye)
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| I was prolly leavin' the studio
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| When they was on they way to breakfast
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| When they was prolly goin' to sleep
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| I was still up I was goin' extra
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| Right before the new Walmart, I was still on Gresham
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| I told myself, «Never fall off, Quan you gotta do better»
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| I do this shit in real life nigga, no make-believe (no, no)
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| I was broke as hell growin' up
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| Now fifty what I make a week (yeah, yeah)
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| Rich in spirit, that the way to be (rich homie baby)
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| These niggas cotton
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| And I’m harder than 'em (that right too)
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| It’s copywritten 'cause I wrote it, I’m the author nigga
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| I got some stories I’m tellin' but they not made up
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| Don’t try to dap me, just spare me, don’t want that fake love
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| 18 ain’t know 'bout no Rollie, wanted a Jacob
|
| So when I tell you these stories know they not made up
|
| Keep on my chain when I fuck her, bae ya we made love
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| It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up
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| I told my mama, go get it because she know I got it
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| Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it
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| At the strip club, we at day shift
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| Fifty thousand on my bracelet
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| Eight months I was savin'
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| House so big no neighbors yeah
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| Tryna out ball my paper yeah
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| Real life story not made up (nah)
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| In high school fuckin' hoes by Stephenson
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| Out by Decatur (fuck them hoes)
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| Smokin' by the cafeteria back near the gyms
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| Smokin' mid throwin' out the seeds
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| And spittin' out the stems (spittin' out the stems)
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| Niggas tried to count me dow
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| So I had to bend the rim (I bent my act)
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| I remember mama house, recording, no engineer (hey, hey)
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| Remember when grandmama died
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| It hurt, couldn’t shed a tear
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| I swear I saw my mama cry
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| Didn’t know there’ll be better years (I love you mama)
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| I try to put away my pride, no middle
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| Face all my fears (nah real talk man)
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| We need a plate, don’t try to starve us
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| Can’t make this up when you the author (rich homie baby)
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| I got some stories I’m tellin' but they not made up
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| Don’t try to dap me, just spare me, don’t want that fake love
|
| 18 ain’t know 'bout no Rollie, wanted a Jacob
|
| So when I tell you these stories know they not made up
|
| Keep on my chain when I fuck her, bae ya we made love
|
| It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up
|
| I told my mama go get it because she know I got it
|
| Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it
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| Trenchwerk |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Author , by - Rich Homie Quan. Song from the album Rich As In Spirit, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп