Lyrics Facts - Stitches

Facts

One motherfuckin' question they always ask me
Do I get high of my own supply?
Shut the fuck up, mind your business
Do I get high off my own supply?
Do I get high off my own supply?
Do I get high off my own supply?
Do I get high off my own supply?
Guess what?
Hell yeah, hell yeah
Hell yeah, hell yeah
Hell yeah, hell yeah
Hell yeah, hell yeah
I do get high of my own supply
Tell me what you know 'bout stayin' up the whole night
It’s a tiredness up in my body that I can’t fight
So I gotta do a line of that cocaine, bruh
Am I bad cause I like to do a lil coke, bruh?
My kid always got that food up on his plate
My family always got money in they bank
I’m a G up in these streets, you know I got that rank
And I ain’t fuckin' that bitch if the pussy stank
It’s six-AM in the fuckin' mornin'
My cocaine and my dick got her moanin'
Fuck Young Jeezy, I’m the real fuckin' Snowman
Big Meech went up in prison and you went ghost, man
Do I get high off my own supply?
Do I get high off my own supply?
Do I get high off my own supply?
Do I get high off my own supply?
Guess what?
Hell yeah, hell yeah
Hell yeah, hell yeah
Hell yeah, hell yeah
Hell yeah, hell yeah
I do get high of my own supply
Take it how you want it
Fuck that beef, I guarantee you that I won it
This ain’t no image, dog, you don’t fuckin' want it
I show up to your show and crack you with a bottle
Like Gucci Mane, fool
I’m corrupt like the system
I done a lotta shit but never been a victim
Once he upon the floor my Timberland’s gon' kick him
The world know that I’m real, the whole world, you done tricked 'em
Fake fool
Do I get high off my own supply?
Do I get high off my own supply?
Do I get high off my own supply?
Do I get high off my own supply?
Guess what?
Hell yeah, hell yeah
Hell yeah, hell yeah
Hell yeah, hell yeah
Hell yeah, hell yeah
I do get high of my own supply
Straight up, fool!
That fake rappin' that shit!
That fake ass image you got, boy!
You ain’t no dope, boy!
Act right boy, dont come to my city no more
I put a real pound in yo head
Matter fact, 50 racks for any piece of jewelry that fool got on
Act right like that song you jumped on with Yo Gotti, fool
And don’t come around talkin' about you gon' put racks on my head
Cause the next show you do, I’ll be there, motherfucker!
And you better have mo' straps than T.I.
on that motherfucker tour bus, fool!