CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : The Era
Uh, b*t*h I'm on a paper chase
Blade underneath the bait
Shut up b*t*h and eat the cake
My little n***as squeeze the 'K
I don't like the way the Yeezy's 350's fit me
I know G's in Mississippi, b*t*hes sippin' [?] with me
Paint the sky with brain matter
Whip the foreign like a slave master
The Wraith way faster, haters throwing shade at you
Bad hoes, tanning on the patio
I go pistachio for the dough and the flashy clothes
I fly like a Harlem n***a, I need all them figures
You know the guy to call a n***a if I got a problem with you
Give me two feet, these n***as too sweet
I'm with my b*t*h at the boutiques
Every week cos she a shoe freak
Yeah, I break bread while my n***as shake feds
My iced up braclet, they washed up like K. Fed
Hasta luego, was jealous cos Drake was f**king with J. Lo
OG Bobby J put the barrel in the potato
I'm not from a era with no motherf**king clowns
No I come from a era where you had to hold it down
And if you couldn't spit it when you did it then the realest wouldn't let you come around, let you come around
No I'm not with them weirdo rapper that rock them gowns
And all that f**k sh*t that misrepresent the town
I'm from that Cuban link chain and solid gold fangs
You know it when you hear the sound (Hey, hey)
Blade underneath the bait
Shut up b*t*h and eat the cake
My little n***as squeeze the 'K
I don't like the way the Yeezy's 350's fit me
I know G's in Mississippi, b*t*hes sippin' [?] with me
Paint the sky with brain matter
Whip the foreign like a slave master
The Wraith way faster, haters throwing shade at you
Bad hoes, tanning on the patio
I go pistachio for the dough and the flashy clothes
I fly like a Harlem n***a, I need all them figures
You know the guy to call a n***a if I got a problem with you
Give me two feet, these n***as too sweet
I'm with my b*t*h at the boutiques
Every week cos she a shoe freak
Yeah, I break bread while my n***as shake feds
My iced up braclet, they washed up like K. Fed
Hasta luego, was jealous cos Drake was f**king with J. Lo
OG Bobby J put the barrel in the potato
I'm not from a era with no motherf**king clowns
No I come from a era where you had to hold it down
And if you couldn't spit it when you did it then the realest wouldn't let you come around, let you come around
No I'm not with them weirdo rapper that rock them gowns
And all that f**k sh*t that misrepresent the town
I'm from that Cuban link chain and solid gold fangs
You know it when you hear the sound (Hey, hey)
