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letra de 4rm me to u - rich homie quan

[intro]
yeah, aye
catour f-ck it up

[verse 1]
gotta sit on this mic ‘cause i can’t keep my thoughts inside me
and i keep them hoes at my spot like like michael lowrey
got a bad lil bih from paris, met her at the eiffel tower
bought a brand new watch for my birthday but i ain’t put no ice around it (no no)
i can’t change the person i am baby but i can change the way that i live (rich homie)
and if a thing happened for a reason, baby i can’t change nothing i did (uh uh)
if i could change anything baby i wouldn’t’ve made you never aborted that kid
but i did and it’s on my mind still (i’m sorry baby)
i been tryna find a way to forgive (tryna find a way)
you want diamonds off in my ear
shinin’, they know i’m clear, behind me, they in the rear
we kickin’ pimpin’ over here, no lame b-tches over here

[chorus]
i say them b-tches ain’t gettin’ paid, on they face a lot of hate
but i ain’t trippin’ ’cause they do a lot of shade throwin’
me and my buddy hit a lick last week, we had to split it
all this money boy, i told him let’s get paid homie
i do this sh-t for gang gang, gave all of my n-gg-s chains
and right now i swear i feel just like a slave owner
all these n-gg- takin’ swag, h-ll yeah the homie mad
come to think about it, they ain’t ever pay homage

[verse 2]
i put a lot these n-gg-s on and i still ain’t got my credit
but i ain’t mad though (nah) ’cause i could’ve been mad broke (yeah)
i watch my momma work a double just to feed all her kids ’cause that bag slow (she got like three of em)
gotta make that cash flow (i love you momma)
but i couldn’t let my momma struggle, so i got me a job (nah n-gg-)
but she ain’t know my job require a gun ’cause i rob
she ain’t ever understand what was back in the kitchen, residue on the floor (i was hustlin’)
she ain’t know about the shootout in her truck (fa fa fa), i told her i wasn’t involved
she ain’t know about the co-defendant i had, kept it one hundred took the charge (i didn’t take sh-t)
you the only one put somethin’ on my books when i was in jail and i starved (when i was locked up)
cut from a different cloth, i’m as rare as they come
and i’ma keep ballin’ on these b-tches like my hair is gone (rich homie baby)

[chorus]
i say them b-tches ain’t gettin’ paid, on they face a lot of hate
but i ain’t trippin’ ’cause they do a lot of shade throwin’
me and my buddy hit a lick last week, we had to split it all this
money boy, i told him let’s get paid homie
i do this sh-t for gang gang, gave all of my n-gg-s chains
and right now i swear i feel just like a slave owner
all these n-gg-s takin’ swag, h-ll yeah the homie mad
come to think about it they ain’t never paid homage

[outro]
at this point, yeen got to bro, haha nahmsayin, i watch myself put you n-gg-s on, ya feel me, so at this point i’m dead n-gg-, homie

- rich homie quan

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