Lyrics Prophecy - Tut

Prophecy

I’m back on this microphone
Y’all don’t even understand what kind of life I’m on
Walking through the valley with my nikes on
Prophecy — I had to go and get my psyche on
Damn that nigga TUT and K be making songs
I remember making plays inside of vacant homes
Make the wrong turn you might not make it home
I’m trying to make a million dollars — it won’t take me long
(1: TUT)
I’ve been looking for truth — not sure if I’ll ever find it
Sleep with the enemy and kill her at the top of a climax
Flee to a different climate — I’m shining like freshly polished
Silver ware at the diner — breaking out the good china
I’m as fresh as my line up, working from monday to sunday
Feed the team like a coach at CiCi’s pizza on monday
Swipe your visa Lord Jesus so y’all can pay some attention
I’ve been pimpin since Pippen these hoes just made it a business
Y’all done made me the villain — call me TUT The Joker
Made your lady my baby — rolled her around in my stroller
Getting neck like a shoulder, I’m bout my paper like folders
Sell that weed like a dominoes — «Hi can I take your order»
Unknown numbers — I do not pick up, that there is a stick up
Pick up yo' bitch with no pick up line, she call and I don’t pick up
Hands in the air this a stick up — bitch we ain’t playin that
We ain’t asking no questions, dog we just making a statement — uh
(Hook)
I’m back on this microphone
Y’all don’t even understand what kind of life I’m on
Walking through the valley with my nikes on
Prophecy — I had to go and get my psyche on
Damn that nigga TUT and K be making songs
I remember making plays inside of vacant homes
Make the wrong turn you might not make it home
I’m trying to make a million dollars — it won’t take me long
(2: Johnny Smathers)
The truth is what you hoping to find
It’s hocus pocus, so instead we try to focus this grind
You start to see the smoke and mirrors when you open your mind
I want them hooked on these bars, I put some dope in these lines
I put some drug in your ear, I hope I’m coming in clear
See it ain’t been to tell who sit and running it here
They call me big papi mami, ain’t no bunting in here
You know like y’all want the answer like we talking ‘bout practice
She got that wet pack they say my name john the baptist
The homies is local, I said that I want the atlas
You know the axis to axis — I put them ashes to ashes
We puff and pass it — putting soundwaves in a casket
Like every track could be classic, been gettin gettin them buckets
I try to kill them with kindness but they just stay on that fuck shit
I sit and chill at the brunch and keep trying to function
She gets baked and gives them buns up like they fresh out the oven
Ah
(Hook)
I’m back on this microphone
Y’all don’t even understand what kind of life I’m on
Walking through the valley with my nikes on
Prophecy — I had to go and get my psyche on
Damn that nigga TUT and K be making songs
I remember making plays inside of vacant homes
Make the wrong turn you might not make it home
I’m trying to make a million dollars — it won’t take me long