We self-made but never is an i on the team
A mans on the ground, and thats not whipped cream
All i got is fuckin racks
Yeah, red bottoms, she ain't trying to dance
And you suddenly got cream and all that time was broke and poor,
All the while my mom askin' why i'm truant at school
Hold onto dreams and see where the cream has got us
Mama always told me i’d be famous
I've got a paper plane, it's propelling my buzz
Stacey dash type, i'm cheatin' on em and they fuckin clueless
Went to sleep at seven never woke up from the dream
Y'all wonder 'bout the money, man we got plenty cream,
Watch them grow and then you die? no, nigga fuck the system
While spittin grade a fuckin trash, you want responses? i got 'em
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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