Letras
I grew up with Saints around me
God fearing and I say it proudly
I show love and only hate surround me
I'm getting real sick
Of these fakes around me
Pretty face but don't got no personality
Body count Thirty for Thirty no ESPN
She got played for the Thirtieth time
Now she claim that she lesbian
I don't trust nobody that say let's be friends
Pull the iron bet he never be pressed again
Pick me hoes is the same as a let me in
Will do anything to make a guest appearance
I ain't here for the games
Shh he said that's just life
I rather it be monopoly
Than the price is right
Cause all my life
I been against the odds
But it all disappear
When I take a hit like Ike
Supreme gear for ya girl
I guess I'm still like Tina
Turned her to a monster
I was a good girl
Now I feel like demon
Instead of making my wish come true
I spent this whole time dreaming
People wonder why I cut em off
For no good reason
I mean think about it
What good is the numbers
Without a bank deposit
I mean be about it
Especially when you say you bout it
I'm to real and it shows I hate it
Any bill I got on auto payment
Alexander's go for any occasion
If I have it just know that I claimed it
He talking heavy
He don't want the smoke
Not talking dej I'm all about my loafs
I'm on the main stage
Right where I belong
I'm the Main character on any show
Since Twenty One I been in savage mode
Heart cold
I keep a moncler coat
They think I'm a show off
They think I boast
Raf the shoes
Rather be on a yacht
No lil boat
Saints
So many lost saints
They out they head now
So many fakes
I walk around with my head down
I know they aiming at my neck
To get ahead now
But I don't care cause
I'm too focused on this bread now
Saints
Villey bound
Ima paint the city red with this one
Got no soul
came from the bloody bottoms
But I'm still a Christian
I'm running circles around these niggas
Who my next victim
I drink on henny Twenty Four Seven
To get the Dusse out my System
Who want the smoke
Who want the smoke
I count my wins
Point my Ls at his throat
I move different
When it comes to the Jackson's
This a different stroke
Only time I go down hill is on a slope
My heart
The only thing covered in snow
You mad I'm at my peak
And you know
Pass me the blizzy
Bet not pass me the roach
We somewhere getting buttad
Don't butter me up cause
I'm slick when I'm gone
I get a bag
And give it straight to my brother
Cause I know for sure he won't ever fold
The other bags
Go straight to my sisters
With a designer logo
Just what they want
Two more bags
One for mama
One for Mother
Tell em both get whatever they want
Saints
So many lost saints
They out they head now
So many fakes
I walk around with my head down
I know they aiming at my neck
To get ahead now
But I don't care cause
I'm too focused on this bread now
Saints