Nines - Hear Me Out

Give me your
Oh, baby, give me your
Oh, I like it when you
Give me your

I was tryna rap a lot, but I was slangin' rocks
Hangin' crops 'round the block since panda pops
All these nigga hatin' on me
Told her, "Don't make it awkward," when I fucked his mate like a tree (uh)
Lookin' like I got on a neon chain
More green in my videos than Tion Wayne
They wanna ask pictures, and that 911 exhaust smokin' like Marge's sisters
Opps they don't glide, they just hide when I see 'em
I got haze eye, bitches tryna slide in my DM, uh
I was only fifteen when I had a Rollie
Cookin' squares in the kitchen, they ain't ravioli
I-I don't need a record deal 'cause shit piles
You niggas blow the advance before the ink dries
I'm paranoid with all this food in the basement
Me and my nigga W come like Lulu and Ace, uh (my nigga)
I pull up in that AMG
You bring that bitch, Nova cough, had that chicken, KFC
I made it out the hood, I'm inspirin' the youth
Every time I throw a party, I had snipers on the roof (uh)
N-north West ballers, I get so much dome in my studio, that it's literally the headquarters
Remeniscin' in the Tesla
How I made them fiends crack smiles when I was givin' out testers
Gettin' money, I ain't maintainin'
I'm runnin' through these bricks like Harry Potter at the train station
I go any block, I don't care how far
So much goons hoppin' out the whip, look like a clown car
I had fears of bein' broke with a can of beer
Now look, now I'm a millionaire with nappy hair
This chick's on me to beat
But I ain't hear 'cause she been through more bodies than Mystique
I'm a Stoic, can't alter my mood, fuck the opp block
I still drive through like I'm orderin' food
And I ain't partyin' without my straddy in the venue
Kush gang, bitch, hella Calis on the menu
They sayin' they prefer the old me
Then go listen to the old me, 'cause now, I'm an OG (uh)
Jordan 4s or designers on my feet
Fuck a MBE, I was knighted on the street
I go to Hell if my niggas is there
I blew a mill' in a year, it's cool, though I'm still a millionaire
Last time we topped the charts, they thought it was luck
This time, we did it again, what the fuck?
Speedin' in my new hot car, wanna rap with me?
Meet me on a roof-top bar (uh)
Cah I'm hardly on the strip, now, I'm gone clear
Certain rappers fell off, me, I'm still top tier
Remember when the strip was my office
Ain't no workers 'round me, I got a clique full of bosses, uh
And that- that's enough, man

Written by:
Courtney Leon Freckleton, Bob James, Daniel Cordero, Darrin Chandler, Dinky Bingham, Ewart Dewgarde, Gottfried Charles Yeboah Nortey, Jeffrey Scott Dyson, Kenyatta Blake, Michael Bivins, Ronnie Devoe, Silky, Walter Dewgarde

Publisher:
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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