CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Fire In The Booth (Part 3)
You know what time it is when you hear this, right?
(Now, it's time to Rumble!)
I don't give a f**k about the fame, tryna' get my money long
Could've went mainstream, but I ain't no Uncle Tom
With these Glocks, man will turn you to a soul
Leave a n***a in a box likes he's working in a toll
I was in jail, dinner time eating cornflakes
(Then what?) Then I went from court dates to tour dates
If you think Ice City fell off, you must be mad
I just signed "shh", six-figures in a duffle bag
And if it ain't my weed that they flip
Then I'll lean on the strip like the codeine they sip
School days I was popular
Only if I knew back then I was playing with snakes like my Nokia
They wonder if I'm saving, told them not to worry
I ain't MC Hammer, I ain't blowing all this money
I made 50 G's this week in the trap
b*t*h, I sell keys in my sleep, this ain't cap, uh
So don't go missing if you tick this pack
My n***a Bunz will take the mink off your b*t*h's back
This is my last one, I'm 'bout to switch to rap
And I still rep the Churches like Sister Act, uh
I got hitters so I blast off my strap
While I'm sitting in Barca with Jack
Fam, I pull up on the strip in a Lambo'
Put on a fresh outfit just to go sit in the bando
My chick says I think the world revolves around me
Can't afford to slip, I always keep revolvers 'round me
Smoke some biscotti before bedtime
I ain't open up for no one, my first show was a headline
Yeah, I'm signed but that's streams strictly
Doing donuts in my coupe's the only time I was in a 360
Can't bring them stars 'round me
Cah my troops will rob a n***a like Arsenal Fan TV, it's Nines
(Now, it's time to Rumble!)
I don't give a f**k about the fame, tryna' get my money long
Could've went mainstream, but I ain't no Uncle Tom
With these Glocks, man will turn you to a soul
Leave a n***a in a box likes he's working in a toll
I was in jail, dinner time eating cornflakes
(Then what?) Then I went from court dates to tour dates
If you think Ice City fell off, you must be mad
I just signed "shh", six-figures in a duffle bag
And if it ain't my weed that they flip
Then I'll lean on the strip like the codeine they sip
School days I was popular
Only if I knew back then I was playing with snakes like my Nokia
They wonder if I'm saving, told them not to worry
I ain't MC Hammer, I ain't blowing all this money
I made 50 G's this week in the trap
b*t*h, I sell keys in my sleep, this ain't cap, uh
So don't go missing if you tick this pack
My n***a Bunz will take the mink off your b*t*h's back
This is my last one, I'm 'bout to switch to rap
And I still rep the Churches like Sister Act, uh
I got hitters so I blast off my strap
While I'm sitting in Barca with Jack
Fam, I pull up on the strip in a Lambo'
Put on a fresh outfit just to go sit in the bando
My chick says I think the world revolves around me
Can't afford to slip, I always keep revolvers 'round me
Smoke some biscotti before bedtime
I ain't open up for no one, my first show was a headline
Yeah, I'm signed but that's streams strictly
Doing donuts in my coupe's the only time I was in a 360
Can't bring them stars 'round me
Cah my troops will rob a n***a like Arsenal Fan TV, it's Nines
