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in the beginning - justin rarri lyrics

[intro]
oh, oh
da*da, oh
who see me? hmm
oh, oh
hmm
hmm, la*la, la*la
uh, da*da

[chorus]
b*tch i did this by myself
n0body was checkin’ on me like last year
made it out, it’s a problem, now these b*tches claimin’ they helped
you should tell me ”i’m sorry”, for callin’ me with all that bullsh*t
b*tch told me “i ain’t bout it”, we be violatin’ that full clip
told her “that’s on everything, yeah”, got my opp b*tch on the floor beggin’ for wedding rings
and these n*ggas hatin’ on me, they all p*ssy, you know they all fake
b*tch you don’t know me, bang it out on broad day (yeah)
tell a b*tch i want my guap, you know we keep them guns heavy
cummin’ all up in her face, b*tch what you call that cumfetti
i ain’t runnin’ from n0body, we gon’ leave ’em done empty
bullet holes up in his body, brodie keep they own .30
all these n*ggas ’round me strapped, that be the reason why he mad (mad)
so addicted to this smoke, my mother researchin’ rehab
b*tch i’m really from the a, no none of these n*ggas know me that well
ended up robbin’ my father, for his coke i want that cash well

[verse]
sniper get ’em, i don’t play ’bout my shorty, he shootin’ well (boom)
how you claimin’ you a huncho, in real life you by yourself?
’cause if i k!ll you, ain’t n0body gon’ give a f*ck about your death
you really p*ssy, actin’ like you gangster, lyin’ to yourself (oh, oh)
i swear to god i might go off a n*gga, catch ’em woppin’, n*gga (oh, oh)
run in the bank, i gotta package, twenty thousand dollars, n*gga (oh, oh)
i just wanna know why, they keep talkin’ on a n*gga? (oh, oh)
grab your b*tch then make her fly, show her who a boss n*gga
real rap, my ex ain’t really love a n*gga, hmm
i’m traumatized from all this love, my n*gga
soon as i go turn my back, they throwin’ subs, my n*gga
that man callin’ me his brother ’cause i’m up, my n*gga
bought a b*tch a birkin bag, yes i’m too lit, brother
we throw big colors
big dripper, leavin’ big puddles with my big brothers
that be meanin’ we all live together, that’s a big hustle
shout out bando, he ain’t missin’ nothin’, we got big guns, it could get done
hoppin’ off a jet, i got the drop, my brodie swervin’ off (yeah)
heard she really f*ckin’ with a broke n*gga, she hurtin’ now (f*ck ’em)
you ain’t even got no money to talk to me like first of all (ayy)
yeah you got me bad, in my bag, got a purpose now
got a lot to say, i’m holdin’ back ’cause i don’t give a f*ck (nah)
gangsters move in silence, he was talkin’, i’m still pullin’ up
my new shorty mad ’cause i was in the studio workin’ hard
like b*tch, i’m really workin’ now

[chorus]
b*tch i did this by myself (oh)
n0body was checkin’ on me like last year
made it out, it’s a problem, now these b*tches claimin’ they helped (yeah)
you should tell me “i’m sorry”, for callin’ me with all that bullsh*t
b*tch told me “i ain’t bout it”, we be violatin’ that full clip
told her “that’s on everything, yeah”, got my opp b*tch on the floor beggin’ for wedding rings
and these n*ggas hatin’ on me, they all p*ssy, you know they all fake (all fake)
b*tch you don’t know me, bang it out on broad day (broad)
tell a b*tch i want my guap, you know we keep them guns heavy
cummin’ all up in her face, b*tch what you call that cumfetti
i ain’t runnin’ from n0body, we gon’ leave ’em done empty (on god, yeah)
bullet holes up in his body, brodie keep they own .30 (own .30)
all these n*ggas ’round me strapped, that be the reason why he mad (mad)
so addicted to this smoke, my mother researchin’ rehab (yeah)
b*tch i’m really from the a, no none of these n*ggas know me that well (know me that well)
ended up robbin’ my father, for his coke i want that cash well (i want that cash, brodie)

[outro]
that’s on everything, yeah
beggin’ for wedding rings
they all p*ssy, you know they all fake
yes i’m too lit, brother
who see me?
see me on the tv
showin’ all my [?]
[?]

- justin rarri lyrics

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