Correction Lyrics Too Late by French Montana

Featuring(s) : Florence Welch

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Lyrics

[Florence Welsh & Jim Jones]
Dipset, Coke Boys
Something epic, you know
French, what up? BX, what up?
Harlem, what's bangin'?
Lost in the fog, these hollow hills
Blood running hot, night chills
So long and lost, are you missing me?
Is it too late to come on home?
Is it too late to come on home?
Can the city forgive? I hear its sad song

[French Montana]
Through the fire, right through the fall
Big bag like Santa Claus
New sauce for the summer sauce
Marching band, we the drummer boys
And tell the crib I'm on the way back
Walked to my goals, took the plane back
And they prayed he ain't came back
All Rocky like A$AP
Indecisive, persuasive, face lift
Top down, ageless, timeless, stone age
Running out of patience, serving up the patients
No navigation, grind like bad brakes
Eating lobster with the crabs, that's the bad taste
Same niggas on the rise to find the bad days
Niggas on the rat race
Same niggas laughing at us started laughing with us
'Cause all the slammed doors turned to Lamb Porches

[Florence Welsh & Jim Jones]
Is it too late to come on home?
Is it too late to come on home?
Can the city forgive? I hear its sad song
Is it too late to come on home

[Jim Jones]
If nobody died then it's not a beef (Facts)
Contrary to all the lies, we all got beliefs (As-salamu Alaykum)
Still keep it in my rider in my boxer briefs (Loaded)
Hood nigga got them yachts docking by the beach (LA, what up?)
They still treat me like a god when I'm in the H (Harlem)
Cut lawyers that eat the charge like a dinner plate (Yanna)
We was just ducking them charges on the interstate (Facts)
Watch fifty that's an extra twenty large in the face
We both getting money, that is not the issue (You hear me?)
I'm trying to find my woosa like some chakra crystals (Pray for me)
Still hit a nigga with a tec but I ain't got a whistle
Slide through the wake, make sure your mom's a box of tissue (Kleenex)
We gon' hit whoever rocking with you (Who)
Catch your ass in Houston, shoot you, make sure you got rockets with you (Nero, what up?)
We come home and get a welcoming committee
When you fuck niggas you ain't welcomed in your city

[Florence Welsh & Jim Jones]
Is it too late to come on home?
Is it too late to come on home?
Can the city forgive? I hear its sad song
Is it too late to come on home

[Jim Jones]
If you tell me you get money then it shouldn't be able to fit in your pocket, nigga
My money can't fit in a bag so what type of bag you niggas is gettin'?
We drinking Ace and Ciroc all night, you heard
I been a bad boy, tell Diddy I been selling that Danity Kane to get that dirty money, you heard me money
French, what's up? Bx, Harlem

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