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letra de fym - joyner lucas

[verse 1: joyner lucas]
picture me putting my city all over the map
(whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah)
they wasn’t believers, i had to get even at math
(what, what, what, what)
be coming, i’m pulling and jumping all over your gr-ss
(yeah, yeah, whoa, whoa, uh)
so tell all my b-tches i got a new girl
tell the police that i’m robbing the bank and i want all of my 50’s in cash
b-tch, i’m tired of living, check to check
i need twenty models and some extra s-x
smiling in my grave, b-tch i’m fresh to death
i’ve been drinking wu-tang with inspectah deck getting drunk
yeah, i got some sh-t that i gotta just get off my chest
(whoa, uh, uh, uh, yeah, d-mn)
i can admit i got lots on my list and you next (uh, uh)
take it how you want it, i ain’t famous like i want it
but i think i might just skrrt off, blow the speakers and turn up
pop a bottle of smirnoff, go to church with my shirt off
tell the lord that i’m here now, i’ve been waiting for so long
i’ve been patient for so long, breaking rules like there’s no laws
and i did it for a long time
if you don’t like me, take a ticket, there’s a long line
nice to meet me, hoe, i think the pleasure’s all mine
sh-t, they’ve been clocking me so long, i think they lost time

[hook: joyner lucas]
ooh you lost your mind, n-gg-
f-ck you mean? whoo! hol’ on
godd-mn it, n-gg-
f-ck you mean? whoo!
and i don’t trust a mothaf-cking soul
what the f-ck you mean? whoo!
hol’ up, whoa whoa whoa whoa
what the f-ck you mean? whoo! (hol up now)
look

[verse 2: joyner lucas]
don’t know what you thinkin’, compare me to n-gg-s is nothing
(uh, uh, uh, what, what)
adrenaline pumping and blood’ll be leaking and running
(word, word, yeah, yeah, uh)
sh-t, i do what i do, i don’t care if you like it or love it
(nah, nah, uh, uh, joyner)
tell all of my b-tches i got a new girl, wait
and tell the police that i’m robbing the bank and i want all my money in 100s
b-tch, i’m tired of living on the edge
i wanna sell drugs but they gon’ call the feds
i just bought a brick and that sh-t cost an arm and leg
my momma told me, “take it back and get a job instead”
(where’s your common sense, n-gg-?)
me and the devil got too much in common, i swear
(d-mn, uh, uh, d-mn, uh)
born in the ghetto, i never had nothing to fear (nah, nah)
take it how you want it, i ain’t famous like i want it
so, i might just throw a hissy fit
call up c-ssie, ask her if she broke up with diddy yet
i said shawty, if she’s talking i ain’t hitting it
cause she gon’ call her friends up and brag about the sh-t we did
whoa, i ain’t into pillow talking, go chop off your lips
if i ain’t in your top ten, go dive off a bridge
my block boys got glock fours that’ll knock off your lid
i doubt you gon’ pop off, so hop off my d-ck
whoo!

[hook: joyner lucas]
n-gg-, f-ck you mean? whoo!
godd-mn it, i said f-ck you mean?!
listen, i don’t trust a m-th-f-cking soul
n-gg-, no, n-gg-, f-ck you mean?!
whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
what the f-ck you mean?!

[verse 3: mystikal]
you thought i was finished, you thought it was over?
you thought i retired, you thought i went fishing with kobe?
n-gg-, i’m still as the illest, considered as one of the coldest
still-a pull apart in a rapper head like moses, mm-hm
i’m throwback like i’m motorola
but hoe, i’m cooler than a cup of yogurt
black flag, crip boy, truck soldier
i’m cool with drug lords and ayatollah’s
rap god, cyclops and ogre
b-tch i’m king kong, ain’t n-body told ya?
f-ck you think bro still smoking?
aww f-ck it, i’m bobby brown, ’bout to go get loaded
r-t-rded paul mccartney, b-tch i’m rich
i’m muhammad ali, i talk sh-t
i’m james brown, bout to tear down this b-tch
i’m michael jackson, b-tch i’m bad as bad gon’ get (oww!)
f-ck you mean?

[voicemail]
yo w-ssup, this is joyner
i’m unable to take your call right now
leave me a brief message and i’ll get back to you, peace

[brief message]
yo, this is the third time this week
that you failed to pick up your son, and i’m just so confused
like i find it funny that you stay in the studio laying something down
slanging mixtapes but you have yet to bring home diapers
and lay your kid down and go to sleep
on snapchat talking ’bout, “where’s the plug?”
like i’m sure he’s at national grid tryna cut my lights back on
like “a dollar and a dream” -ss career
and you can’t even come home and give us a dollar for some f-cking milk
i’m not doing this with you, keep it 100, my n-gg-

- joyner lucas

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