Cover art for Y.O.U. by Tito Lopez

Y.O.U.

Tito Lopez
Track 8 on Y.O.U. 

Produced by

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Y.O.U. Lyrics

Let me tell you who I am
And what this life really meant to me
Young nigga barely been living a quarter century
But mentally I'm ahead of these lames
Also I'm grown, ho I ain't understanding these games
I be in the zone like the Drake and Weeknd song
I'm on a whole other level
Roulette bets with the devil
On whether I'd be successful at this rap shit
He get read, I'm there
Give me heaven per 7 I'm black bitch
For you
What's your question, homeboy?

Well we're basically
I've been taking me
Out of my element
And making me question myself
And if I'm relevant
Mistaking me for one of these niggas with no talent
Hating me, make me wanna resort to violence
Silence is all I need to be good
I just need to be successful I don't need to be hood
I'm trying to grow up, get invited to the Grammy's
Show up, win something, get upstage and play all salsa
For you
You got a question over yourself?
You know what they say
I was heaven sent just to represent
I'm y'all boys to the hood I'm 106 my nigga
By choice to show'em just where we come from
Miss me with that hum drum
Leave a couple nuts on your face
That's a love song
Punched, about to get beat down
Shots come up with any reason to speak down
I don't speak clown, but deep down I think you boys mad
Cause I'm doing everything you wish you had
And I do it for you
See just sit down and let me talk for a minute
I got the floor

I don't trust nobody in this freaking world
Ain't met a bitch yet fit to be my freaking girl
Y'all on that socialite shit
Fuck a social life, music and nothing
All them VH1 assholes, they usually fronting
It's the man in me, posess no vanity
Heavy as the hand of G-O-D
But I know he understanding me
Standing three feet away from gold, very patient
Keep the iron on my side for you Perry Masons
And I ain't never had shit
But three hands on the clock
And one hand on my dick and one hand on the mic
Just hoping something might slip
Before I'm too old to sit
Pacemaker eatin shit that taste like bricks
I get kicks fucking with your mind
For leisure
Staring contests with the blind
I see you
Everybody know I can rap but that ain't enough
I'm from Mississippi, they always trying to make it tough
These lumberjacks want me axed, 86
I was born in '87 though so y'all can take a dick
Take a dip in a pool of acid and let it eat through
Maybe the you'll find your heart and be true
And that's advice for you
I swear I'd do it for you
I'd do it for you
All for you
Swag do it for you
Not for me for you
My underdogs
Swag do it for you
To tine own self be truer

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