Correction Lyrics Good & Bad (Outro) by Peezy

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Lyrics

I'm just sittin' here, kickin' it with Jetto
We was just talkin' 'bout how we used to always sleep on motherf**kin'
In one apartment twelve deep
Now everybody got mansions and sh*t
Blue Benzes, blue Escalades now
Millionaires and sh*t, you know
This life crazy, like, God is good

I sold crack out granny house, now I'm a millionaire
I'm at the top, but it don't feel right without my n***as here
When a n***a down bad, you see who really care
When you broke and on your d**k, it ain't no b*t*hes there
I ain't goin' back to jail, 'cause ain't no b*t*hes there
But real talk, it really wasn't sh*t, I got rich in there
Bro, bеfore they count at 9:30, check my Instagram
You don't know how it feel to hеar your name and get a piece of mail
I done been down with n***as who got thirty in
Say when he get out, he doin' dirt again
My n***a from Ohio robbed a bank, they gave him thirty years
He been in jail since the nineties, he don't even know his kids
We gon' get rich or die tryin', all we know is win
If this rap sh*t gon' fall through, I'm sellin' dope again
Auntie had stopped gettin' high, now she smoke again
But who am I to judge? sh*t, I'm back sippin' fours again
Webb FaceTimed me, said he went back to the O again
They caught brodie with a nine-piece, here we go again
I just met up with the lawyer, had to give him ten
He on his third strike, we might never see his ass again
Real sh*t, it ain't all good, but it ain't all bad
I just counted up a half a million, n***a, all cash
Seen his name in some paperwork, I had to fall back
They had me down to my last ten, I had to crawl back
You ain't talkin' 'bout no f**kin' money, n***a call back
You know you ain't welcome in my hood without no hall pass
Missed a call from an Instagram model, ain't even call back
'Cause I don't put pu**y over paper, not at all, jack
Flyin' first class with no luggage, where the mall at?
'Cause rich n***as shop when they land, I got tall racks
I'll f**k a n***a b*t*h in his bed, I'm with all that
If I ain't a Ghetto Boy, then what you call that?
Rubber band Audemars Piguet, it match the dog tag
Mansion out in Rochester Hills, far from y'all ass
And brung a pint with no seal, man, it's all bad
I don't know where you got this sh*t from, but take it all back
Man, my b*t*h so bad, she need her ass whooped
And we know you pu**y, n***a, you'll get your bag took
Last n***a ran off with some sh*t, we had to tie him up
Last n***a tried to play me like a ho, I got him fired up
I'll spend a hundred racks today, don't get me fired up
I'm a rich n***a, I don't count money, I weigh mines up
Apple got life 'cause they picked him out the lineup
But he gave that sh*t back, see you in five months
Finna pop another Perc 30, I ain't high enough
This sh*t ain't dark enough, f**k it, pour another line up
You know I ain't get it overnight, I had to climb up
Baby say she want a new Chanel, I'm finna buy her one
You ain't ride for the gang, n***a, f**k y'all
You ain't screamin' Ghetto Boyz, n***a, f**k y'all
Cartier bracelets on my wrist, they took the cuffs off
Same color watch and chain, that's a buck, dog
I take care of lil' baby, she know how to keep a secret
I take care of all my n***as, they take care of all they people
You know money, that's the root to all evil
But we ain't never trippin' on sh*t, we all demons, n***a

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