Mike Dimes - HOME

This young boy from Texas, so excuse my grammar
Big booty my standards, deuce in Fanta
If I'm in the scene, I'm flexin' in the camera
Check my fellas, we all flock the same
We birds of the same feather
We together, this forever
Switchin' bezels every level

Me and Cinco push that two-door coupe
Ain't none of this shit rented
Servin' fishes, fuck yo' favorite rapper, hope he get offended
I was trippin' off that ho before, but promise I ain't trippin'
I was trippin' off them Ksubi jeans
But now my closet drip designer
Got a bag and I couldn't be Prada (nah)
Drop a song and yo' status went nada (nah)
In the booth if I'm tryna get proper (yeah)
I was a school boy just tryna get collard greens
Homie outside wit' Alicia Keys
I made money from mics, they made money from fiends (yeah)
Root of all evil, what got me them tickets at Regal
So fuck what's illegal
I'm different, I really ain't get a handout
I know half of these rappers were gimmicks (on gang)
I write my own lyrics, I bought my own pendant
All them O's, but my songs screamin' fuck yo' opinion
No need for a nigga to say that I'm winnin'
It's fuck everybody the way I been feelin' (on God)
I got me a bitch and my bitch got a bitch (on God, on God)
So they down for a threesome, nigga, pimpin' (ayy, ayy)

This young boy from Texas, so excuse my grammar
Big booty my standards, deuce in Fanta
If I'm in the scene, I'm flexin' in the camera
Check my fellas, we all flock the same
We birds of the same feather
We together, this forever
Switchin' bezels every level

Switch a Lambo for a Chevy
Backseat heavy, from that heavy
Want a bad bitch with the fetti
When she ready, bitch, I'm ready
Fuck the sex I want that Becky
Gimme Becky if you let me
I whip slow, my cook game steady
Turn that boy into spaghetti

I can ask a patna in my camp to handle somethin'
They just do it like they beefin' wit a Adidas, uh (yeah)
Bitches poppin' pussy for the same skinny nigga
Droppin' music ain't nobody had believe in (yeah)
Took a couple Ls I ain't tweakin' (tweakin')
I got money to help all my reasons (yeah)
I got shorties from all major regions
I jumped in the water and claimin' the deep end
Hold on
Different money, I'm countin' those
Shorties I'm poundin on, I know them niggas is pissed
I'ma put a new Patek on, buy my bitch silicon then I'ma double again
Niggas ain't solid, I don't claim a friend
Because when I was knockin' you ain't let me in
Niggas lose vision all over the pussy
Or snake the whole gang for a blue Benjamin
Witness, everyone say that I'm up
I was stuck at the bottom you ain't give a fuck
I don't care for a bitch, I ain't searchin' for love
And I don't trust a soul if he ain't from above
I ain't surfin' a wave, I got Locs, fuck a brush
When I got in the game I was shit out of luck
They would look at my pain and they ain't help me up
If you mention my name say I don't give a fuck, bitch

This young boy from Texas, so excuse my grammar
Big booty my standards, deuce in Fanta
If I'm in the scene, I'm flexin' in the camera
Check my fellas, we all flock the same
We birds of the same feather
We together, this forever
Switchin' bezels every level

Written by:
Caleb Chiang, Michael Goode Jr., Tzurel Halfon

Publisher:
Lyrics © Distrokid

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