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letra de all wëek - yeat

all wëek lyrics
[intro]
yeah

[chorus]
yeah, pockets full, pockets fat
being broke was so bad, but i’m on this jet with a whole lot of bags now (yeah)
you say you want these racks, then get off your ass, kid (your ass)
that boy high fashion, everything fancy (fancy)
they tried say to my twizzy went and said that, told ’em “it can’t be true”
i been high thinkin’ about the past, i remember when i was just introduced (to me)
“you still a kid”, i’m still a kid, but the difference is i sit in a booster

[verse]
asked that b-tch, “where you wanna go?” she said, “ruth chris” (yeah)
they said “yeat, you was just broke, how the hеll’d you do this?” (yeah)
i don’t know how i got this porsche, i don’t know wherе the roof at (yeah)
she give me brain and use this hand, this b-tch an all-around eater
take like 24/7, i’m an all week geeker
said “what you gettin’ from me”, i don’t need sleep either, nah
everything they want come back just like a t–ter (saw)
say you wanna be rich, then you gotta scam, you gotta be a cheater (a cheater)
yeah, the cheetah print pajamas on the ass make it look fatter (so fat)
when i smack that sh-t two times, it make me gladder (yeah)
you ain’t even know me like that for real, so why’s it matter? (why’s it matter?)
you was the somewhere in the hills whenever i met her (whenever i met her)
you told me that she was on the pill, so i went faster (i just want it)
d-r-a-c-o, get back, keep dancin’ (phew)
she a good girl, shakin’ the ass for real, she not even dancin’ (not even)
i live in my own world, i don’t look for f-ckin’ answers
i don’t do sh-t ’bout it, these kids really some b-tches, i can’t even stand ’em (i can’t)
i never answer to go do sh-t, so what is you askin’? (yeah)
that b-tch r-i-s-k-y, but she passionate [?] the h-llcat
i told ’em “i’m bout to slide”, but i told ’em “i crashed it”
i wan’ take when i’m alive, but i’ll take when i’m passin’ (i’ll take when i’m)
i’m failin’ this sh-t everytime, not talkin’ bout school, talkin’ bout drug tests
i been moved on, don’t care about my exes (exes)
i drove the rolls royce from l.a. to new york, no exits (yeah)
[chorus]
yeah, pockets full, pockets fat
being broke was so bad, but i’m on this jet with a whole lot of bags now (yeah)
you say you want these racks, then get off your ass, kid (your ass)
that boy high fashion, everything fancy (fancy)
they tried say to my twizzy went and said that, told ’em “it can’t be true”
i been high thinkin’ about the past, i remember when i was just introduced (to me)
“you still a kid”, i’m still a kid, but the difference is i sit in a booster

[open verse]

- yeat

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