Coupes & Roses

As a kid I had a lot of money

Knotted up, rubberband money

Next to that xbox, thrown in my jordan box

I think it was my 13's something that I rarely rocked

White and black high top, I used to wear the high socks

Back when I was ballin', shootin' 3's for a dollar

I was hustlin' niggas back then, buyin' momma scratch and wins

Stackin my ends, tryin' to get that robinson

Cause pop was robbin', beatin' 'em back then

I mean back when he was in my life

I still had to 'fend, for my life, it was do or die

Dicky pants and suit and tie; let me decide which way to go

Changes tire wages out to the day I expire so

Bcg’s russian, blue collar to the buckle

All my deals done, midwest nigga with the locs on

Been getting this since voltron, kung-fu grip, bofon

When it comes to getting this paper I’m like kobe and lebron

Coupes & roses, flowers for the dead

Fresh may we bow our heads, give thanks for this bread

Lord keep us safe and our families out the feds

My og ash'd his square, and this is what he said, he said:

Expensive habits, I’m a addict for golden kicks

Leather bunkers and dark-skinned chicks

What can I say? I like to floss a bit

Spend money like a faucet drip, sweat

Pants in top tens like a boston nigga

Everybody say I’m awesome, shit

I’m just makin money talkin' this

Never made one cent off a tossin a brick

I hustled diamonds, got my hands dirty, cleanin my wrist

Gold gat, no rope, still the motion is sick

Blue collar, clean impala, automatic no stick

In case they trip automatics with grip protect his essence

Don’t condone a weapon but they out to catch us slippin'

When you livin' like this the poor feast on the rich

Court seats in the knicks, shout to marn, my nigga

The harder I work more lavish I live

Not bad for a kid who only started with kicks