Cordae
Rock Bottom
[Verse 1: YBN Cordae]
N***a I gotta blow, I got a lot of foes
'Cause where I’m from, you get jumped like Geronimo
We rock designer clothes, well fuck the honor roll
You cannot hop in the booth, if you not a bro
Shootin' like James, we'll let that rocket go
I’m manifested, I know that my pockets gold
Rap shit my life, and this shit a pot of gold
It be official, tell them n***as "Aidios"
N***as is mad I'm ahead of my time, sick is the flow, leave m dead with the rhyme
Never call him, cause the feds on his line, picked up the pencil instead of the 9
They hot as bodies that you never goin find, they dropped the case, better than mine
Never progressin, you know that I heard that stuff
I just assume that they don't work and stuff
Lies about pies, I promise they're purppin tough
How everybody that rap is a murderer?
How you be trappin, but lackin the cirtinty
I'm about coins, and I'm chasin the currency
Snap out of it, never a problem with it
Like my producer, dog, I stay Anonymous
Still signed to Country Boy, that kid Carolina shit
It was a drout, and he could never find his hit
Ayy, watch how I fuck up this track though
N***as say they fly but I'm petrodactyl
All these rappers are like my little rascals
Whippin snappers yeah you know I'm an asshole
Lil n***a why you cocky and bashful?
Bro, keep a couple pills in a satchle
Ballin out, like I just won a raffle
Labels hit me and I got em all baffled
[Verse 2: Simba]
Lil n***a, I got big amounts
I’m just tryna see bigger counts
Got the water flowin, like a river rout
N***as sneak dissin, be spesific now
Curry, the way I dish it out
Got my grandma askin, what’s this bout
Ain't fuckin with me, then you missin out
/bring the dissin out, I bring the pistols out
Thought I couldn’t do it, now they listen to it
The feds wanna call me a shot back
You want me with Faruko, cause I bought you a pistol
Stop hating, you ain't even boss yet
Dollar signs is what I must get
I got old money, like a Muskit