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t.rich - slow.jam. lyrics
[intro]
money don’t come by itself
you should know that
“can i hit your blunt?”
i said “h-ll no b-tch buy your own sack”
four grams in a backwood bet i roll that
till i’m in the ground i’ma never f-cking hold back
i hope you know that
[verse 1]
find me creep-creep-creeping in the street, not sleeping
why you praying and you dreaming
i’m on planes and i’m leaving
’cause this money don’t come by itself
you should know that
rolling up the good but the life i’m living so bad
i ran ‘outta juice, give my money to the dope man
i pour up the deuce, f-ck around and make a slow jam
four grams in a backwood, bet i roll that
till i’m in the ground i’ma never f-cking hold back
[verse 2]
people tell me “rich you f-cking cold”
i hope you know that
“can i hit your blunt?”
i said “h-ll no b-tch buy your own sack”
rather count up all this bucks
rather smoke out all my drugs
xans make me not give a f-ck
the dead might just come visit us
[outro]
creep-creep-creeping in the street, not sleeping
why you praying and you dreaming
i’m on planes and i’m leaving
’cause this money don’t come by itself
you should know that
rolling up the good but the life i’m living so bad
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