[Part 1: Real Friends]

[Intro]
How many of us, how many of us? Real friends
How many of us, how many of us?

[Verse 1]
How many of us? Fifty women, don't know how many rubbers
How many Ubers? Could never count up how many want us
How many models leaving something at the crib to come back or at least have a reason to?
"Bye, it was nice meeting you"
Same ones you show the most love talking 'bout lining you
Hate you, then they love you, you winning, so they LeBron-ning you
Then you change your number, they sick cause ain't no finding you
Fake friends comical, see, me, I'll probably smile at you

[Verse 2]
Real friends, how many of us?
How many of us? How many jealous? Real friends
It's not many of us, we smile at each other
But how many honest? Trust issues
Switched up the number, I can't be bothered
I cannot blame you for having an angle
I ain't got no issues, I'm just doing my thing
Hope you're doing your thing too
I'm a deadbeat cousin, I hate family reunions
Fucked the church up by drinking at the communion
Spilling free wine, now my tux is ruined
In town for a day, what the fuck we doing?
Who your real friends? We all came from the bottom
I'm always blaming you, but what's sad, you not the problem
Damn, I forgot to call her, shit, I thought it was Thursday
Why you wait a week to call my phone in the first place?
When was the last time I remembered a birthday?
When was the last time I wasn't in a hurry? Uh
Tell me you want them tickets when it's game-time
Even to call your daughter on her FaceTime
Even when we was young I used to make time
Now we be way too busy just to make time
Even for my real friends
[Hook]
I guess I get what I deserve, don't I?
Word on the streets is they ain't heard from him
Uh, guess I get what I deserve, don't I?
Talk down on my name, throw dirt on him

[Verse 3]
I couldn't tell you how old your daughter was
Couldn't tell you how old your son is
I got my own junior on the way, dog
Plus, I already got one kid
Couldn't tell you much about the fam, dog
I just showed up for the yams, dog
Maybe fifteen minutes, took some pictures with your sister
Merry Christmas, then I'm finished, then it's back to business
You wanna ask some questions 'bout some real shit?
Like I ain't got enough pressure to deal with
Please don't pressure me with that bill shit
Cause everybody got 'em, that ain't children
Oh, you been nothing but a friend to me
N***as thinking I'm crazy, you defending me?
It's funny, I ain't spoke to n***as in centuries
To be honest, dog, I ain't feeling your energy
Money turn your kin into an enemy
N***as ain't real as they pretend to be
Looking for real friends, how many of us?
How many of us are real friends to real friends
'Til the real end, 'til the wheels fall off, 'til the wheels don't spin
To 3 a.m., callin', how many real friends?
Just to ask you a question, just to see how you was feeling
How many? For the last you was fronting
I hate when a n***a text you like, "What's up, fam, hope you good"
You say, "I'm good, I'm great"
The next text they ask you for something, how many?
What's best for your family: immediate or extended?
Any argument, the media'll extend it
I had a cousin that stole my laptop that I was fucking bitches on
Paid that n***a 250,000 just to get it from him
Real friends, huh? Real friends
[Hook]
I guess I get what I deserve, don't I?
Word on the streets is they ain't heard from him
Uh, guess I get what I deserve, don't I?
Talk down on my name, throw dirt on him

[Part 2: No More Parties in L.A.]

[Intro]
La-di-da-da-da (I like to play)
La-da-da-da-di-da-da-la
Let me tell you, I'm out here from a very faraway place
All for a chance to be a star
Nowhere seems to be too far

[Hook]
No more parties in L.A
Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh
No more parties in L.A
Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh
No more (Los Angeles)
Please (Shake that body, party that body)
Please (Shake that body, party that body)
Please (Shake that body, party that body)

[Verse 1]
Hey, baby, you forgot your Ray-Bans
And my sheet's still orange from your spray tan
It was more than soft porn for the K, man
She remembered my Sprinter, said, "I was in the gray van"
Um, well, cutie, I like your bougie booty
Come Erykah Badu me, well, let's make a movie
Hell, you know my repertoire is like a wrestler
I show you the rope, connect the dots
I cut your girl in the valley…