[Intro]
Take it all or leave it
I feel you
[Verse 1: Matt Champion]
When there’s a rough patch, don’t eyef** the parachute
They goin’ AWOL the second that the light goes on
This a treat ain’t it, so initiate the powder room
I pull it back and check my rosie, and yeah, I’m bout to bloom
It’s that ninety raised from hell sh**, parlay like when the lane switch
Combat how you feel, strobe light, hit the k**switch
Neck twist like Exorcist, I’ma see you ’round
‘Cause tonight’s the night I’m losin’ all I’m doin’, I’m about this
[Chorus: Joba]
White cuffs, wood grain
Money in the suitcase on my way to the bank
White cuffs, wood grain
Money in the suitcase on my way to the bank
On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank
On my way to the bank, bank, bank, suitcase
On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank
On my way to the bank, bank, bank
[Verse 2: Joba]
‘Til the casket drops, I will play God
f** the world, let’s start a riot, got too much too quick
God damn, I’m feeling sick, b**h, call the doctor
Don’t act like I ain’t been dead to ya
Don’t act like I ain’t deserve this sh**
Couldn’t last a day inside my head, that’s why I did the d** I did
Got issues with these motherf**ers
Looking down from they pedestals
On that petty view, on that petty sh**
Pray for peace with a knife in my hand
Speak my piece like a gun to my head
Come equipped just to blast this sh**, misunderstood since birth
f** what you think, and f** what you heard
I feel betrayed, you can keep the praise
And all of the f** sh**, need to get away
Still ain’t got the fright to the fickle-minded people
I thought I knew better, wish I knew better
Should have known better, wish that I was better
At dealing with the fame and you fake motherf**ers
Guess I’m too real
[Interlude]
Excuse we, let me pa**, let me see your a**
We ain’t playin’ nice, little guy
Now let me, let me run mah t—
[Verse 3: Merlyn Wood]
I’ll be in my bag, (excuse we) goin’ in (let me pa**)
Guess who isn’t built for this, man?
Me and my thugs built for this, man
We goin’ for the gifts and the grams
I’ll be in my bag, (excuse we) goin’ in (let me pa**)
Smokin’ all the grams in this bag, man, you isn’t built for this, man
Run it like a gingerbread man, f** that sh**, stay hydrated n***a
I’ma let that b**h go home, ’cause my momma, wa**up Wa**up?
Black power fist hangin’ from my black ‘fro
Yo, she saw me in that cereal, she want to lick a Oreo, damn
Break the dam when I spit the flow
I’m on the Lam’, not the f**in’ wolf
Hoppin’ out the van, I’m in Abbey Road
Fans with cameras in the bathroom, man that’s difficult
I just wanna smoke a Backwoods by my lonely self
Chill, watch numbers go up, book off the shelf
I found myself and put my face on a missing shirt
I dropped out with no promise that this sh** would
(That this sh** would work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work)
(Work, work, work, work, work, work, work)
[Bridge: bearface]
With the dogs, in my ride, ‘nother door, suicide
Paranoid, do or die, you should know, never lie
With the dogs, in my ride, ‘nother door, suicide
Paranoid, do or die, you should know, never lie
Pull up with the racks to your shop
Pop em in, Cali and the 3 on dime
Sim sim sim badda bim, get shot
One mill, two mill, three, that’s a lot, damn
[Chorus: Joba]
White cuffs, wood grain
Money in the suitcase on my way to the bank
White cuffs, wood grain
Money in the suitcase on my way to the bank
On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank
On my way to the bank, bank, bank, suitcase
On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank
On my way to the bank, bank, bank