Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I'm On 3.0, artist - Trae Tha Truth. Album song Tha Truth, Pt. 3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 20.07.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Abn, EMPIRE
Song language: English
I'm On 3.0 |
Yeah, all gas, fast, livin' like somethin' was speedin' |
Ashy to classy, now I bless 'em like someone who sneezin' |
I’m only here to give 'em pressure, bitch, picture me squeezin' |
Against the world like I was Pac, wasn’t nobody believin' |
Nothin' deceivin', know the truth, what the fuck you was needin'? |
Gather this evenin' for the one, reputation was steamin' |
Vision me gleamin' from the mud, ain’t no point in you cleanin' |
I’m motivation for the ones who nobody was feedin' |
Automatic still give 'em the same kick |
Started the sideline, now I’m starrin' in game 6 |
Spit and make 'em replay it like they’re stuck on the same disc |
Work, I give 'em new, never stretchin' the same brick |
Never the same chick, yeah I’m still on that same shit |
Cop me a new spot, tryna see where the plane fits |
Picture me with a crown, next to that where my name sits |
Galaxy in the ceilin' just to show 'em what fame gets |
In the heart of the jungle walkin' through the fire |
You beat the charge if you show up with an alibi |
Runnin' wild in the city, no direction |
All we know is get that dough, run up the checks and |
I’m self-made, wasn’t made for the military |
Get paid, dodge jail and the cemetery |
You better reach for the stars, take your best shot |
You let them haters kill your dream, your ass be assed out, forreal |
Fill a Backwood with three nicks |
V6, cut the coke, remix |
Squeeze clips if ever we hear that he snitched |
I’m allergic to broke niggas in the precinct |
Found out my man was hatin' and we ain’t speak since |
Barney’s, Nord’s can’t add up the paper we spent |
Tryna get drunk, I’m tokin', I got a P bent |
I touched a million, ain’t sleep since, on defense |
Freedom got me feelin' like I flown up |
Out of prison, I ain’t think that I was blowin' up |
Bunch of young rich niggas home, Rollies up |
Run up on us, watch how quick I’ll lift the toaster up |
Money got me feelin' like you can’t control us |
Servin', watchin' out for the patrollers |
We used to play the game, play on your controllers |
Seen niggas get killed, heart froze up |
Picked up them choppas, got to go and duck |
Shootin' everything up, it ain’t no ho in us |
Shit ain’t even last, free bro and them |
In Chicago I’m home, that’s on foe and them |
Now I’m thinkin' right 'cause I see I can make it |
Started, fam strugglin', I couldn’t take it |
You got it out the mud, I got it out the pavement |
I used to miss payments, got the title, dare you try to take it |
Triple OG |
Never without vision or livin' goal-free |
Never writ it though |
I’ve been out gettin' this since '03 |
Every little red cent and every dividend |
Has been counted and acquired |
Been legit, legal and been with the code |
I’m colder than December in the winter cold |
Look, I’ve been out givin' canned goods and clothes |
To the children on 34th, real nigga, ugh |
I could put you on like socks |
Put you on like my watch |
Put you on the block, you can get that off |
Put you on the right lot, you can get that coke |
Put you on like a fitted |
Put you on in my city |
Got the stars in the ceilin', that’s the Wraith |
Got the top in the trunk, that’s a don |
I could give it to a nigga either way 'cause I’m on, L |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, yeah |
Wakin' up, feelin' good, rollin' through the neighborhood |
Do or die, every day, I lead 'em in a different way |
I don’t take no mess, get it off of my chest |
I’ma be dressed to impress, no stress, fresh |
Off the east side, Trae called me up and said |
«Unc I’ma need you on the b-side» |
So I came through, ah, mic checked, one-two, uh |
Gettin' real funky, kinda smell like manure |
Eight cars, eight stars |
Return of the mack with these hot eight bars |
Flip through it, dip through it |
This is the shit that’ll make you get to it |
Break down, give it up, pour it up |
Now drink it up, roll it up |
Light it up, how you feel, y’all? |
See you in high definition with a mothafuckin' real Dogg |
And every day I’m on |
And if I wasn’t, then why would I say I’m on? |
Get an M and get low, that’s the Dre I’m on |
Get a B in blue, that’s the Jay I’m on |
They on sidelines watchin' what play I’m on |
I call a audible, that’s what a baller do |
They keep askin' me, is there more to do? |
Well ain’t water wet? |
Well then it’s more to get |
To my shorty’s set, and his shorty’s set |
This game ain’t over, it’s more quarters left |
I gotta rep my city, do it for the set |
I gotta talk my shit until I’m short of breath |
'Cause the world is full of niggas tryna off your on switch |
Tryna find a place that your coffin gon' fit |
Me and my niggas on some confidente shit |
And we ain’t really feelin' that off and on shit, I’m on |
Maybach Music |
Chasin' paper, starin' out the casket |
Was a stunna 'til they froze all the assets |
Killers at your neck 'til you cut a check |
You talkin' 'bout the money, nigga, where it’s at? |
Cars for my dogs, do it for the cause |
Right back here tomorrow, nigga, inshallah |
Prayin' on my knees, do it for the keep |
Do it for the team, or I’ma let it be |
Chamilitary mane |
They thought I was done, but really I ain’t even stress it |
Just look at all the dough I got invested |
Two years and two billion dollar exits |
And now your relevance ain’t lookin' that impressive (it ain’t) |
So glad we ain’t gotta chase relevance |
And I would like to thank the dead presidents |
For not livin' forever-ever, forever-ever |
For all of them that passed, I’ve been gettin' paid ever since |
Be okay, still paid, still stackin' it |
We gon' stay, courtside, that’s accurate |
We gon' take the White House and get back in it |
They tried to turn us in to the villains like Colin Kaepernick |
But it’s okay, Gotham City needs savin' |
You’ll fight back but I’ma shock 'em like Raiden |
I don’t fold, I don’t quit and don’t cave in |
Your worst nightmare, Freddy Krueger, Wes Craven |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, yeah |
And I don’t think he really needs any coachin' |
The weather’s gettin' hot, Eazy Season approachin' |
Came up and everybody sees the devotion |
I put the work in, I cause a commotion |
Whenever I’m in public, modern-day Elvis |
Hoes at my shows wanted selfies |
Made it here and ain’t nobody helped us |
Now I’m on a path to be great |
So they say, that’s what everybody tells us |
Raised knee-deep in the dope game |
If I had two guns up then they was both aimed |
Saturday mornin', I’m watchin' Soul Train |
Eatin' leftover food, lo-mein |
Now I’m plant-based, couple juice bars |
I’m on now, I don’t care if the st&straight |
Told Trae I’m the truth like his name is |
Can show you what pain is, I’ll tell you what game is, ghost |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
Ayy Trae, let the councilor speak |
E-40! |
The best that ever did it and got away with it |
Let the councilor speak |
Not a septic tank, but I’m with the shit |
On my coast, I’m the topic and the subject |
Where I’m from it’s hella squeeze and heathens' guns bust |
I wish that TD Jakes would come and pray for us |
They pimpin', they flockin', they like to steal and rob |
Backdoor their loved ones, inside job |
That’s why I stay with a stapler, a baby tomahawk |
Life or death situations in case I gotta pop |
I made a promise to the lord that I’ma keep it funky |
Never switched, never sell my soul for money |
I always been for right, maybe that’s what’s wrong |
Now I’m on like the most requested song |
Since a teen, I was doin' my thing, magazine |
On the 1300 block, we had a machine |
I had a quarter mil' at the age of 19 |
In the kitchin' cookin' birdies with no wings |
The best rappers come from the gravel, the slums |
Empty rack with spaghetti sauce jars rockin' up crumbs |
It ain’t easy bein' on for 30 years to see the glitter and glamour |
But not the blood, sweat and tears |
I’m an old ass youngsta, bruh, I’m a vet |
Sick Wid It Records, sellin' cassettes before the internet |
I never made a mixtape in my life |
But one day I’ma do it for my fans, the people that saved my life |
I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, I’m on |
I’m on, yeah |