SelfMade Tray - change

And on the real, I ain't shit but a stand on business ass nigga
And a bad bitch getter
A real deal money walker
And a bad bitch stalker on bro
If I call you about some money and you ain't got it
I'mma change your ringtone
'Lil bro got hit in his shoulder
He came back next week with a sling on 'em
Diamonds sitting on gold
It damn near look like I had peed on 'em
They hit us once and we ain't take it
Came back like a ping pong
Put a hundred in my momma hand
Made her feel like she was Creed momma
'Lil Trajan done got the people woke
I remember when they was sleep on me
Humble nigga, I gotta make sure everybody around me up
Success done turned me into a monster
I got them sick it's in their gut
I just touched a 40 thousand dollar check with 'lil Rich we fuck it up
I ain't seen Tirrek up in a minute
I hope my little nigga been up
I don't want the bitch nothing but a minute
Can't get a ring you just a nut
We was broke as hell
Did whatever we could to get our funds
Yeah we fell out
But that shit ain't gone be beef
When I came back home
I had 'lil KK weak she fell down straight down to her knees
That bitch a hella burden
I call her ass Tyrese
I be trying to call my OG
But his ass way too damn caught up in them streets
I don't know when but some change gone come
Wish I could save 'lil Myron he died too young
Got on these diamond rings
They cost me a car note
I went from Payless
Now my shirt is Comme Garcon
I'm independent
So i'm steady rocking Vlone
Knew you wasn't about your paper
You always chasing these hoes
Stay down don't worry about nobody else
That's what I told my brother
If they come around here tripping
I'm gone blitz them, boy I put that on my mother
Press his ass
He sweating like he was in a sauna
They tried to hate, but that ice was too cold
Them shits gone dance up in the summer
I remember they tried to sneak my mans
Then we had jumped him
Dont come around here flexing all your poles
'Cause we gone tell your ass to run it
Everytime that I pop out
I got the whole hood fucking jumping
Niggas I grew up with don't got sense
They spray your ass for nothing
Tote a fully AR
That bitch came from Russia
My 'lil cousin only 12
He bad as hell, that nigga always up to something
You know it's lit if 'lil Cam posted at the function
I done told all my lil brothers
"Keep some money in they pocket"
They always hustling

Written by:
TRINA DAVIS, BRADLEY SPALTER

Publisher:
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, O/B/O DistroKid, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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