Morning Calculations

Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye

Damn

La musica de Harry Fraud

When you really got a goal, you gotta stick to it

I wake up early in the morning and grab my calculator

More M's in my bank got a ring to it

I can't trip off what you think 'cause you been a hater

I'm in the SF 90, plates Montana

Still active, run up on this coupe, then FN clapping

I re-up, then I cop again

So don't trip, I'm 'bout to drop again

You won't get it 'less you know what you want

I hit the blunt, and then I hop in the Ghost, get to writing my goals

All that fake shit getting exposed

You gotta sacrifice some time with your lady to get some dough

80 nights on the roads, 90 something for the Rolls

Hunnid something for the platinum, and that's when I'm casual

Shh, so I ain't trippin' off shit

'Cause first they love you, then they hate you, then they love you again

Uh, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye

And I need all hundreds

You can keep all them twenties and shit

I'm a whole 'nother beast when it come to this shit

Pulled up sippin' a juice while I'm clutchin' a stick

And one thing I don't do is ask niggas for shit

I'm a grown ass man, I pass niggas and shit

I got so much options, man, it's hard to pick

So don't check me, little nigga, check that bitch

Walked out the dope game, still had nine zips

Them bright lights in Las Vegas made it hard to quit

Same nigga from the block, I just happen to rap

We ain't never have a job, we was having a trap

Nigga know how I rock and nigga know you a cat

Ship a hundred on ground and put a navi on that

When you crossin' state lines, man, you gotta be cool

But real talk, if they on you, then somebody was rattin'

Don't be callin' my phone askin' me what happened

Ever since a young nigga, I ran it up with a passion