own my masters - jackboy & russ lyrics
[chorus: jackboy]
i done ran up a check, now i’m the one b*tches chase after
all these chains on my neck, i’m not a slave, i own my masters
i got that bread and stacked it up
it get put on your head, my dog whacking stuff
i got her head and fell in love
she eat up that d*ck, ain’t no letting up
this is not a corvette, my aventador go way faster
i could flex on my ex, it ain’t hard to see my new b*tch badder
i got ’em hatin’ that i leveled up
but i’m rich, so no, i do not give a f*ck
everywhere that i step, it’s a pistol tucked
send onе of your n*ggas to get one up
[verse 1: jackboy]
got the gamе in a lock and i won’t let up
jumped fresh out the box and got rich as f*ck
pockets all got a knot, bought the lamb’ off the lot, might f*ck around and go buy the bentley truck
had to grow up real rough, times used to be tough, but them n*ggas still hate how i live it up
i was posted in the cut, we ain’t on the level up ’til i got off my ass and ran it up
had to get off my ass and go get it
lil’ n*gga but i got big digits
if it come down to beef, i’m with it
you could die ’bout a tweet, boy, you silly
you can’t say sh*t about me, i got a milli’
whenever i go, my family gon’ get it
could never trip ’bout a ho, soon i hit it, i quit it
can’t be loved, sorry bae, i admit it
full off them drugs, so the pain, i don’t feel it
my b*tch real bad, i be f*cking on a menace
give me head while i drive, i could wreck, this ain’t rented
i’m a god so my windows five*percent tinted
screaming free yak, pouring shots of the henny
all these free bands, gotta custom the bezy
grown men gossip ’bout the kid like they winnie
can’t f*ck with n*ggas, no, jack not friendly
[chorus: jackboy]
i done ran up a check, now i’m the one b*tches chase after
all these chains on my neck, i’m not a slave, i own my masters
i got that bread and stacked it up
it get put on your head, my dog whacking stuff
i got her head and fell in love
she eat up that d*ck, ain’t no letting up
this is not a corvette, my aventador go way faster
i could flex on my ex, it ain’t hard to see my new b*tch badder
i got ’em hatin’ that i leveled up
but i’m rich, so no, i do not give a f*ck
everywhere that i step, it’s a pistol tucked
send one of your n*ggas to get one up
[verse 2: russ]
ain’t no way i’ma forfeit this (nah)
mailbox money, i’m forbes list rich (yeah)
all from a bas*m*nt in georgia, it’s (true)
real one, you don’t gotta force the sh*t
got a florida chick, and of course she is (what?)
haitian, we takin’ the porsche for a spin (vroom, vroom)
blast off, head got me orbitin’ (yeah)
rewards gonna keep pourin’ in (yeah)
these rappers hardly go (yikes)
i feed my dreams and i starve these hoes (i do)
i ain’t sorry, though (yeah)
these rappers hardly go (true)
i feed my dreams and i starve these hoes
i ain’t sorry, though (f*ck ’em)
workers hatin’ on the boss, i don’t f*ck with y’all either
say it’s lonely at the top, went and bought a two*seater
i might say what prince told nas, i ain’t trying to do features if you don’t own your masters (ha*ha*ha)
[chorus: jackboy & russ]
i done ran up a check (yeah), now i’m the one b*tches chase after
all these chains on my neck, i’m not a slave, i own my masters
i got that bread and stacked it up
it get put on your head, my dog whacking stuff
i got her head and fell in love
she eat up that d*ck, ain’t no letting up
this is not a corvette, my aventador go way faster
i could flex on my ex, it ain’t hard to see my new b*tch badder
i got ’em hating that i leveled up
but i’m rich, so no, i do not give a f*ck
everywhere that i step, it’s a pistol tucked
send one of your n*ggas to get one up
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