Coupes & Roses

As a kid I had a lot of money

Knotted up, rubberband money

Next to the 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 it was in my life

I still had to think

For my life, it was good with that

Dickie pants an suite 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 fucker

All my deals done, Midwest nigga with the loc's on

Been getting this since Voltron, kung-fu grip, grow fond

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 asked it square, and this is what he said: we should

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 asked it square, and this is what he said: we should

Expensive habits, I'm a addict for gold and kicks

Leather parkas and dark skinned chicks

What can I say? I like to floss a bit

Spend money like a faucet drain

Sweat pants inside vans like a Boston nigga

Everybody say I'm awesome

I'm just makin money talkin' this

Never made one cent off a tossin' a brick

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

Gold yacht, no boat, still emotion is sick

Blue collar, clean Impala, automatic no stick

In case they trip automatics with grip protect possessions

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

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