Young Roddy – Kyle Watson Lyrics
[Verse 1]
And I finally got my dream in my palm, and I can't let go.
In a class by my self, when I speak, I hear those echo's.
These wack ass rapper's gassed, no petrol.
I walk it like I talk it in my retro's
In the back seat of my older cousins car, they bumpin' Esco, or either bumpin' Jay's shit, but now they bumpin' my shit.
I'm trying to get it poppin', paper always been my topic.
That money in my mind, it's in my bank, and on my counter.
That weed all on my scale, it's in my joint, and in my grinder.
And Like Mekhi Phifer off of clockers, I was clocking.
So can a nigga ball, Kyle Watson.
These thirsty ass broads trying there best to count my pocket.
But, ain't no time for gossip, I'm to busy counting profit.
It's funny how they hopped off, and they hop back on my dick.
It's funny how another nigga bitch all in my mix.
It's funny how I used to wear my homeboys kicks.
Crazy how I come from piss poor, to hood rich.
Ugh, aye, but can I live? I hope they let me.
Im bugging out like Clyde
Barrow, or Joe Pesci.
I'll never chang, I'll remain the same if they let me.
Marley told me, if I want it, to go get it.
Clearly this little nigga, big business.
Illen, for that money, I started sinning.
Silly of a nigga, hope he forgive me.
Just hope that I ain't speaking to low, so he don't hear me mane.
I said I'm hoping I ain't speaking to low, so he don't hear me mane.
Ugh. Music saved my life, that ain't no question.
Riding like a 187, me and my bredren, ugh!
On a quest to get this cheddar.
Maby they'd do better, if they knew better, but they dont five a fuck, so my attitude's what ever.
Thinking level headed, even when I'm on my level.
We all on a hunt to get this treasure.
Either you a buyer or a seller, a Jet nigga stay fly in any weather.
Owwww.
And I finally got my dream in my palm, and I can't let go.
In a class by my self, when I speak, I hear those echo's.
These wack ass rapper's gassed, no petrol.
I walk it like I talk it in my retro's
In the back seat of my older cousins car, they bumpin' Esco, or either bumpin' Jay's shit, but now they bumpin' my shit.
I'm trying to get it poppin', paper always been my topic.
That money in my mind, it's in my bank, and on my counter.
That weed all on my scale, it's in my joint, and in my grinder.
And Like Mekhi Phifer off of clockers, I was clocking.
So can a nigga ball, Kyle Watson.
These thirsty ass broads trying there best to count my pocket.
But, ain't no time for gossip, I'm to busy counting profit.
It's funny how they hopped off, and they hop back on my dick.
It's funny how another nigga bitch all in my mix.
It's funny how I used to wear my homeboys kicks.
Crazy how I come from piss poor, to hood rich.
Ugh, aye, but can I live? I hope they let me.
Im bugging out like Clyde
Barrow, or Joe Pesci.
I'll never chang, I'll remain the same if they let me.
Marley told me, if I want it, to go get it.
Clearly this little nigga, big business.
Illen, for that money, I started sinning.
Silly of a nigga, hope he forgive me.
Just hope that I ain't speaking to low, so he don't hear me mane.
I said I'm hoping I ain't speaking to low, so he don't hear me mane.
Ugh. Music saved my life, that ain't no question.
Riding like a 187, me and my bredren, ugh!
On a quest to get this cheddar.
Maby they'd do better, if they knew better, but they dont five a fuck, so my attitude's what ever.
Thinking level headed, even when I'm on my level.
We all on a hunt to get this treasure.
Either you a buyer or a seller, a Jet nigga stay fly in any weather.
Owwww.
