Lord D'andre - Sickness

Oh Lord
You feel that
You feel that
Oh Lord
Aye

Wake up count these racks
Wake up to a check
Wake up put these diamonds on my neck
Woke up to some head
Went to sleep with money on my mind
Dreaming bout this shit
Woke up put that nine up on my hip in case a nigga trip
Bitches on my dick, these niggas on my dick
Drowning in this water like Titanic, bitch try not to panic
Know these niggas broke and they can't stand it
Bitch I'm too outstanding
I go get that money, I'm an addict. Bitch I gotta' have it
Ever since a jit I been legit, I been running shit
Half these niggas fake and counterfeit, I spent racks on my fit
All about my motherfucking digits, Mother fuck a critic
Got her screaming, "Lord!" like she a Christian
Know this dick addicting

Rockstar
Glock with the dick, cock it like a Porn Star
Bitch come rock this microphone like a Pop Star
Can't go back to jail, I might leave the cop car
Who you think you are
I can't help myself
I can't help this wealth
I can't help these racks
Don't get too attached
I know some real deal steppers knock you off the map
I got stabbed and pulled the knife out of my own back

Oh Lord
Oh Lord
Real Trap 'N Roll shit
Yeah
You feel that

Rock out with my cock out
If I pop out, bet the Glock out
Don't get hostile, I might spaz out
You gon' crash out tryna' keep up
Keep some green on me for good luck
Eat that pussy like it's pot luck
We keep sticks on us like nun chucks
I kick shit just like a ninja
I'm gon' run it up like I was racing
All my money segregated
Niggas hate me, they so basic
Roll 'em like a blunt, lace 'em
Chains on me like I escaped a motherfucking slave ship
Real rockstar, Ain't no motherfucking faking

Oh Lord
Oh Lord
Aye
Yeah

Written by:
Isaiah Smith

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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