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okay - eriq black lyrics

i gotta problem believe me
i gotta top’em believe me
fruit of my labor is peachy

i’m a chef, making bread off a pc (tss)
i gotta get it on site like its weebly
my brudda den seen me
i been whipping up in the kitchen
gotta make sure that we all eat
boy i tell ya my heart den been cold,
need my place worth more than a zip code
ain’t too much else on my mental
n*gga i been bold
not really sure what n*ggas den been told
but its prolly all old
i’m packing gold like i founded wells fargo
burn gas like arco yeah

i need big stacks till it don’t make no sense okay? (dummy) (okay! okay!)
i need big racks till it don’t make no sense okay? (stupid) (okay! okay!)
i need big stacks till it don’t make no sense okay? (dummy) (okay! okay!)
i need big racks till it don’t make no sense okay? (stupid) (okay! okay!)

i grew up with nada, nothing, notta d*mn thang yea
so when i hit store, need every d*mn thang yea (i need every d*mn thang)
i’m clocking in overtime, every d*mn day yea (every d*mn day)
i’ma die rich, and that’s on every d*mn thing ya (that’s every d*mn thang)
i gotta get it man, every d*mn way yea
slices not enough i want the whole d*mn cake yea (whole d*mn cake yea)
if you see me as your chance i wouldn’t try to take it
my brother got a big stick and that sh*t ain’t fake yea
trust i got a heart and it’s really hard to break it
put them stacks in jewels n*gga never trace it
till i can get some sleep off that lobster and that steak yea
guess i gotta move, on a dime n*gga racin’

i gotta problem believe me
i gotta problem believe me
i gotta problem believe me
i need big racks till it don’t make no sense
i need big racks till it don’t make no f*cking sense
i need big racks till it don’t make no sense
i need big racks till it don’t make no f*cking sense

- eriq black lyrics

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