my year (every year) - nayan kessee lyrics
i’m going all in,ballin,callin
tell them bad b*tches real n*gga said to fall in
attention when i speak a boss talking
beam and a stick hoe a boss n*gga walking
2005 the last time i was lacosting
prada to the shoes a n*gga cold steve austin
flossing,tell these broke b*tches what it’s costing
don’t worry about me b*tch ,worry about abortions
lame ass n*gga that you getting child support from
i’m a real n*gga designer clothes and sport guns
you’re none, of that boss sh*t i’m looking at
only time i see hoes every time i’m looking back
i was cooking brack,keep the numbers in the book packed
40 in the book bag, n*gga what you looking at
push start the whip,the n*gga that these hoes looking at
money over b*tches to the grave yea i’m pushing that
police pick me up try to stop me like couldn’t trap
never talk to the mic something like i wouldn’t rap
snitching ain’t in style paperwork say i wouldn’t rat
how you come home in a day from a murder rap
got my n*ggas hungry now they looking where to murder at
run up on you slipping leave your brain where the curb is at
moncler jeans you broke n*ggas never heard of that
sliding in the latest slow n*ggas never learning that
switching up whips, more cars and my learning cap
staying on tight f*ck sh*t i’m just observing that
never partaking, handshaking, no debating
it’s no conversation, know most n*ggas faking
tough with little n*ggas police got you writing statements
counting money by the faces, stacks in brief cases
racks so this paper, got me attached to not saving
spending money, they never stop printing it on paper
and i be the dealership, my car whatever year it is
she in the streets with honda’s, streets where they drilling sh*t
f*ck about a b*tch, or what her opinion is
see me in the set, a million ways to get it in
blood gang win again, counts of the benjamins
n*ggas getting jealous the clothes from next year event
name ringing everywhere, streets to the tier and sh*t
talking like a b*tch real n*ggas not hearing it
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