Mafi D - Woke Up To Die

Yeah
Yeah, yeah
Let me take my time, right?
We gon' talk to the streets
The streets talk to me
Yeah
Man, this shit ain't even fun no more (Why?)
You got strap without a switch, guess you woke up to die (Blllrrdd)
How you complain about not being fed, you sweet as pumpkin pie (Muah)
Grew up in the trenches but I dress like a suburban guy (Hello)
My young nigga throwin' bombs, he keep his turban tied
If I say Walmart, that means pull up on his curb and slide (Skrrrt)
Her patience thin but she a thick bitch on the curvy side
Got food for thought for my young niggas so I serve they mind, don't wanna see none of em' in that pine
You know how it go, if we die, we die (We die, we die), everybody got they time
I don't pay you for no input, bitch, why you tryna chime?
You cryin' while I feed you dick (Boohoo), I call that wine an done (Ha)
I lock myself inside of Cotto's studio, that's doin' time
Let's all pray (Let's all pray)
Let's all pray and hit our knees an give him thanks (Give him thanks)
Cause everyday I wake up runnin' to the bank
Somebody died, it wasn't me but I'm not a saint
That's what I think
Man, this shit ain't even fun no more (Why?)
You got strap without a switch, guess you woke up to die (Blllrrdd)
How you complain about not being fed, you sweet as pumpkin pie (Muah)
Grew up in the trenches but I dress like a suburban guy (Hello)
My young nigga throwin' bombs, he keep his turban tied
If I say Walmart, that means pull up on his curb and slide (Skrrrt)
Her patience thin but she a thick bitch on the curvy side
Got food for thought for my young niggas so I serve they mind, don't wanna see none of em' in that pine

Written by:
Derrick Jones Jr

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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