Description: What I Am On, Hip Hop Music, Hip Hop, royalty-free song, royalty-free music and buyout music
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Lyrics:
Chorus
I remember in the past, they would see my whip and laugh, sayin that kid is a loser that boy always gon be trash.
I hustled every single day chasin all dis cash, used to pray to God to help me make my good fortunes last.
And now that money blah blah blah, all it wanna do is talk.
Pull up in that coupe hatas mad hear my exhaust.
And now that money yap yap yap, like a itty bitty dog.
Ladies following me home just to see what I am on.
Two door Maro with the halo headlights, not gon lie, took me several years to get that dough right, had to finance a new mattress so I could sleep well at night, tell ya what it show was worth it cuz them 20s shinin bright, a man in my position shooting fuh Forbes 30 under 30, sell my stocks TD Ameritrade help me celebrate Christmas early, might go buy momma a car, get my lil bro a jersey, might go to the grocery store at checkout buy the local food bank a turkey, it's all love where I'm from, get the cash give it back, cuz people did the same for me when I had nothing to stack, congratulations to myself for being raised in a home where I was taught you gotta git it on ya own.
Chorus
Luxury condo on 12th avenue wit some 22s on a brand new Malibu, two whips need one for business, one for pleasure, Rollin wit a bad A chick no Scarlett letter, one life to live so ya either live it now or never, might as well cast ya self in a dream and call it Sega, rather my pockets mega than be a begga, don't play bout my cheese cuz I love the feta, steady brag about it to make critics jealous, complain of my methods cuz they tracks ain't sellin, wanna know my secrets say I ain't tellin, ask questions bout the next project unveilin, you'll have to wait to see what tracks I'm killin, and excuse the mess when ya see how much dead president I'm spillin.
These domestic whips, domestic chicks, that I copped on foreign trips sure love when ya boy is never worried bout expense.
Chorus
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