first day check - nu_centri lyrics
[intro: nu centri]
(zelo on the beat)
robot robot
robot robot
[chorus: nu centri]
i’d rather have money, why do fiends want a job?
f*ck yo income, we get high, you do not
first day of the month, crackheads get they check
check*check checky, ch*ch, ch*ch, ch*ch, ching
b*tch i feel like wayne, i get high and then i sing
mr. miller off the ****** like his favorite color pink
i be too high to play ball, but shoot like i got rings
[verse 1: nu centri]
sippin’ too much dextro, i be leaned over like it’s portland
i got too many poles, when i’m hot i air it out like it’s a organ
sippin’ dextromethorphan like it’s tears from an orphan
and i can’t trust ho’s, even my mom said they whorin’
i put everything on god, but i swear to god these b*tches borin’
when i wake up sometimes, i get high, go back to snorin’
why these b*tches stay depressed, did they forget they where the lord is?
and i remember when i was younger i was a freak*a*zoid kid
[chorus: nu centri]
i’d rather have money, why do fiends want a job?
f*ck yo income, we get high, you do not
first day of the month, crackheads get they check
check*check checky, ch*ch, ch*ch, ch*ch, ching
b*tch i feel like wayne, i get high and then i sing
mr. miller off the ****** like his favorite color pink
i be too high to play ball, but shoot like i got rings
[verse 2: lil ghost]
just bought a hundred thousand dollar ring, i’m shootin’ like i got rings
ballin’ everyday, i shoot my shot, then its cha*ching
i never learned nothin’, why do fiends go to school? (i don’t know)
that n*gga said i’m broke? man, that b*tch lied to you (that’s cap)
gettin’ to that check, i be rich than a b*tch
all these diamonds on my neck got me feelin’ sum sick (okay)
combinin’ all your houses cost less than my fit
i just f*cked this b*tch, gotta kick her out the crib
i’m so d*mn high, ima shoot to the stars
[chorus: nu centri]
i’d rather have money, why do fiends want a job?
f*ck yo income, we get high, you do not
first day of the month, crackheads get they check
check*check checky, ch*ch, ch*ch, ch*ch, ching
b*tch i feel like wayne, i get high and then i sing
mr. miller off the ****** like his favorite color pink
i be too high to play ball, but shoot like i got rings
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