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fayde - 98 lyrics
[hook]
praise the lord in jesus name (jesus name)
praise the lord in jesus name (jesus name)
yeah, yeah, yeah
[verse 1: fayde]
praise the lord in jesus name
let’s go back to ’98
back when momma lived with grandma
cause she made a few mistakes
back when dotman was a great
before we fell in love with weight
didn’t care was overweight
but now i gotta watch my weight
pull up on an mlk
my older brother’s in the parking lot
never wanna watch me
cause a lil n-gga talk a lot
didn’t give a f-ck
cause every move they made a n-gga watch
seen ’em make a couple racks
and give a f-ck ’bout duckin’ cops
swervin’ in a f-ckin’ drop
95 on 95
in the p-ssenger
while daddy raced a couple foreign cars
almost died a couple times
but shoutout to my f-ckin’ pops
always told me
“champ, be every single thing your daddy’s not”
everything i want i got
n-ggas hatin’ on ya but
i just do my thing
bro i got dreams of condos in dubai
she said “fayde, you changed tonight”
had to change, was f-ckin’ up
now they pay me one or more
to rap about my f-ckin’ life
[verse 2: fayde]
n-ggas always talkin’ ’bout problems
n-ggas don’t got no problems
n-ggas said lay off the drugs
so yung k!lla be high on the island
i’m thinkin’ bigger than that
i worry ’bout coppin’ the island
i’m from the 416
don’t forget my sh-t
don’t forget this story i spit
[verse 3: fayde]
let me take n-ggas back to it, light years
buzz lightyear fallin’ off my high chair
high school n-gga went to a new school
bumpin’ big sean
holly boy in the bathroom, ahh
ni-n-ggas like what
tenth grade found a little money, glo’d up
little señorita wanna let a n-gga f-ck
but we off that
quiet nights with the loud pack
cryin’ to my shawty cause a n-gga miss that
oh lord, how i miss that
holy god flow with the holy god complex
late night dreams with a bright rolex
all night schemes for the next big check
lurk bruce wayne could’ve cost my press
never front for the net
f-ck with the [?]
‘fore the sh-t get real
i use a slave to the boys in the field
been ’bout work
never fall in love cause i ain’t that hurt
never want a shot
cover this ain’t worth
hot boy, always on the block like turf
choke in the holder
let me pop this purp
[?] n-gga rude boy
[?]
p-ssy boy [?] forgettin’ in my hurst
if he bust a chopper, better hit me first
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