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letra de here i am - j.r. writer

[verse 1: fred money]
woke up yawning from a sour nap
slept for a hour and i’m proud of that
hit my n-gga kwon, he inside the trap
told him i’m on my way, get the slime from mac
hit the shower and recite a rap
throw on some get fresh, outie in a hour flat
big boy mom, smelling like a sour pack
kryptonite, ask superman if he want his powers back
around the scratch like i got a itch
in the ‘jects with my scr-p, and he gotta pitch
take him across the map whenever i got a trip
don’t gotta trip, we gon be rich with a lot of chips
i’mma spit for them n-ggas that can’t
but wish that they could, so they can ball and sit in that paint
try to change a n-gga’s ways, all you get is restraint
and once you get a n-gga paid, all his feelings is blanked
real talk — i seen steel spark
bodies on the floor, outlined real chalk
squally knocking down doors when them deals talk
you ain’t a pig, what you squeal for?
sh-t is messy zoo, how this speci’ do
turn a close friend to a vegetable
got my man doing time, and it’s federal
if he said he do, then i bet he do
look

[verse 2: j.r. writer]
i got that type of raw you bubble that’ll get us all in trouble
i do it for the hood where the only choice is hustle
rawest boy in the world, come and snort a couple
i got that boy and that girl, come and snort a couple
i was born to ball; n-gga, you ain’t known at all
follow protocol? well, i’m the pro to call
when you need someone to tighten up a rookie
you gambling with your life — i’m surprised you ain’t a bookie
cut the foolery, cause obviously you p-ssy
ain’t no schooling me, you’d think the guy was playing hooky
live-r than i should be, you looking at a spitter
trying to see a wussy, then look into a mirror
n-gga, i’m the answer; how could you be a k!ller?
last time you had the hammer, you was putting up a picture
talk about you got work on the block
that don’t cut it — here, you must work at the shop
it ain’t worth it, so stop
you really hurting the pots
i done dealt with so much bricks that i should work on my shot
you ain’t never wait in the hall with weight in the hall
go into a sneaker box just to make a withdrawal
you ain’t never creep the block when they take it to war
if i ever squeeze a shot, you’ll go straight to the law
so, dog, what you trying to sell?
you know writer well
yellow rollie on, only time will tell
i ain’t with the foolery you spitting
i took a listen — you’s a waste of studio equipment
who got a swag excellent as me?
i should put you in a bag, you’ll never be a g

- j r writer

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