A.V. - Wait A Minute

I think your time is up, and you should wait a minute
Your shit be sounding sus, heard you been fakin' wit it
Boy I be lit like matches, yo bitch ain't committed
You know that pussy fire, so I stayed up in it
They say I'm quiet now
Truthfully, I been hiding out​
Cuz I'm on bail, plus on the run
For living all the lyrics they lie about
I ain't on the scene, I'm inside a house
Whippin' white bitches, up in high amounts
Now the plot thickens. Getting hired's out
Stuck inside a cycle, on a wider route
Not a straight and narrow. You a choir mouse
So what the fuck is you cryin' bout
Is taking Fed chances by the ounce
the only way you putting food inside your mouth
Ducking new indictments, gun inside the couch
Staying up at night, hearing sirens out
Nah, counting racks, sippin' dirty
Fuckin bad bitches, all your lifes about
You a rat nigga? Man, look at these rap niggas
Insta-thuggin, Snap-trapping
Help 'em write it
They say too much and get they self indicted
Touching work for them cameras nigga?
Gang gang, with your hammer, nigga
My advice, if you don't give a fuck
Kill yourself and bring your camera wit'cha
My niggas? Got a plan
Coppin' grams, but ain't got a 'Gram
Drumming like Contra, for contraband
Scamming vics, like it's not a scam
Your squad? Not a chance
Video shoot, takin shots at cams
Twitter fingers turn to trigger fingers
But all I see is a lotta hands
Gave my life away in GP
Four years, that was easy
Sliced a nigga over Keefee
Shit got harder after they released me
Never did a day up in no PC
But nowadays the game is so PC
See, the way these niggas wylin' for the fame
Might as well be suckin' dick for retweets
Cold War. Stalin on 'em since '04
Don't wanna hear these niggas no more
I might shoot a rapper, go hit a lick
And do my own tour
This rap shit, like the Clone Wars
Bite your style, like they own yours
Pussy nigga...make me laugh
A pimp who fall in love with known whores
God damn
These goofy niggas really talking down, like
They got the sound...but that don't sound right
How you mislead 'em, and cheat 'em? Nigga you ain't even right
All them songs that made you hot? Nigga you ain't even write
I think your time is up, and you should wait a minute
Your shit be sounding sus, heard you been fakin' wit it
Boy I be lit like matches, yo bitch ain't committed
You know that pussy fire, so I stayed up in it
They say I'm quiet now
Truthfully, I been hiding out​
Cuz I'm on bail, plus on the run
For living all the lyrics they lie about
I ain't on the scene, I'm inside a house
Whippin' white bitches, up in high amounts
Now the plot thickens. Getting hired's out
Stuck inside a cycle, on a wider route
I'm on fire now
Active warrants, lawyers hired now
And I just had to drop 17k to get outta jail
I'ma ride this bitch, 'til the tires out
Ask me why? You can find it out
My paperwork here, deny your doubt
They said a nigga had them choppers
But I don't know what they lyin' bout
And lately, I stay on my Donovan
Play outta pocket, but this game, I gotta win
Facing a lot, but its saying a lot
When you don't say a lot, you just pay 'em to politic
Praying to God, I been
Slaying a thot again
Life is a bitch, but I'm staying monogamous
Swallow my pride, tryna stay on some conscious shit
Don't give a fuck 'bout a hater hypothesis
Never. So fuck you, and fuck everybody you came with
If you ask me when I sober up, I'ma still tell you the same shit
Record labels? No, sir
My plug? Speed dial
Won't settle for a slave deal
I'd rather quit rap, just to beat trial
Fuck a freestyle. Fuck nigga
Copy that. These clowns
Michael Jackson. Smooth Criminal
E'ybody on lean now
E'ybody wanna sing now
Whatever happened to hip-hop
Whatever happened to tagging
Or not doing f*ggot shit, when your shit drop
They fake bloods, or they fake Crips
Fake booty on they fake bitch
Fake rappers wit' a fake life
It ain't hatin', if a nigga hate fake shit
Fans know it, and don't say shit
They wishy-washy and complacent
Translation: If you make hits
You can do whatever, but I ain't shit
I think your time is up, and you should wait a minute
Your shit be sounding sus, heard you been fakin' wit it
Boy I be lit like matches, yo bitch ain't committed
You know that pussy fire, so I stayed up in it
They say I'm quiet now
Truthfully, I been hiding out​
Cuz I'm on bail, plus on the run
For living all the lyrics they lie about
I ain't on the scene, I'm inside a house
Whippin' white bitches, up in high amounts
Now the plot thickens. Getting hired's out
Stuck inside a cycle, on a wider route

Written by:
Paul Hagan

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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