A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


"2 Decades"

[Verse: D-Pryde]

I wish a motha'f*cka would
'cuz they won't really know the outcome
Forbes list or die
I put that on the chick that I came out of
And I be LIVE, killin' em
High and fly in this
I can't work a 9-5, I want 5-9 Million
(Fresh and lucky?) to get this
Hella love in this business
Bummin' through this royal sh*t
I'm a peasant f*cking a Princess
No Alicia, they fallin', no Phil, but they callin'
I don't understand why these rude ass rappers get melancholy
On me, the flyest even when I'm wearing Crocs
I don't see the feet like you wearin' socks
Trying to make more money than your parents got
All you rappers do is copy like when parrots talk
f*ck all the bickering on who's the best
You know who's stupid fresh
Me and this whole rap game be some newly weds
Givin' up on views, improving myself
My ex-chick called me a "j*rk-off", now I'm doing myself
Yeah, buddy got flame
And I'm lovin' this game
Catch me in the main city with a Honey Cocaine
A Honey Cocaine herself
That's my trill(?) b*tch
I always seen her as somebody I could build with
Tell 'em that my Brampton bellboys are in the building
My family still struggling, I'm just ready to kill sh*t
Yeah, I'm jumpin' at 'em with skill
Every trip my mom takes to the hospital for chemo, is another rapper I kill
Angrier than ever, but the angrier the better
b*tch, I'm cold to be around, please pack another sweater
This for Debbie, I swear I hate seeing you hurt
sh*t, I've been through the worst, Everything is gonna work
Losing your husband isn't easy, and I've lost a best friend
And everything isn't gonna be as right as back then
"It's all good," "move on," "grow up,"
That's what they tell me, I can never get into what they sellin'
You know I see the comments like
"I want the old Pryde," "this is sh*t to me,"
b*tch, I was 15, I'm 20 now, stop bickering
f*ck the expectation, f*ck all the speculation
And the fact that I don't deserve all the pain that my family's facing
Brother is working a job, and it's hurting me hard
'cuz I'm making him proud, but I'm supposed to be famous by now
I hate it, I'm trying to celebrate
Whole team depressed, we trying to levitate
And when I make make mad millions, I'mma L.M.A...
O. (Owe) it all to haters who told me I would never make it
Look, 2 Decades, four years in this, I hope you hearing this, Dad
You ain't gotta hurt no more, I'mma work
I'mma slave myself, and kill my own health
Until I get filthy rich and you won't have to work no more
Instead of going strip clubs, dollar bills, ain't (?) here with my main clique
One day, I'mma walk into this b*tch and make it rain quick
Man, I can't be wifed up, I ain't got my sh*t together
If I do that sh*t now, I'm only doing it for pleasure
Bucking shots at everybody on my target list
Why? 'cuz they gotta know that I worked hard for this
Gotta work this year, we've been through enough though
And I'm about to make this year
The Year of The Russell
2 Decades

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

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