Slave II

Album: Bobby Tarantino (2016)
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  • East side, west side, we ride, we die, everyone knows
    Everyone knows, everyone knows
    East side, west side, we ride, we die, everyone knows
    Everyone knows, everyone knows

    Tell me what you know about forty days, forty nights, no lights, all for this
    Tell me what you know about sleeping outside, no ride in the wintertime all for this
    Tell me what you know about commas in the bank
    Lookin' in the mirror, yeah, I did all of this
    Ex you out, get solved with this, everybody know I

    I'm a slave
    I'm a slave
    You a slave (yeah)
    You a slave (alright)
    I'm a slave for this shit
    I'm a slave (yeah)
    You a slave (alright)
    I'm a slave
    You got to slave for this shit

    Walk inside of Def Jam
    Step on the president table and dap 'em up with the left hand
    'Cause I'm countin' money with the right
    In a different city every night
    And I'm sellin' records like it's white
    It's another day, another flight
    Paris in the morning, what elegant night
    What a beautiful sight
    Now tell me who be fuckin' with me, alright?
    Everybody know I'm livin' this life
    Everyone know that I got the baddest wife
    This shit right here, everybody gonna like
    Hold up, I know, I know what I like
    Tell me why everybody in the pipe
    'Cause I'm the only one doin' it right
    I'm a Rap Genius like Rob Markman
    Spent a couple of million on my new apartment
    Down in Manhattan, that's a multi-million dollar view
    And I got it from rappin'
    Damn near everyone nabbin' on the boy, heh, shit
    I'm not a mad rapper, but what?
    I'm angrier than Kanye
    Angrier than Kanye when he talkin' about clothes
    That's a fashion line
    And my last album went number one
    So what that mean?
    I did better than you, you, you
    Sold way more than that pop bitch
    And I dare Def Jam to drop this
    I just drop hits
    Check the Instagram fam
    I got fifty-thousand people in the crowd, singin' out loud
    Every word, that's every lyric
    You can hate, shit, just stop actin' like you don't hear it
    This shit right here for the party
    That album that comin', that's shit for the spirit, woo

    Five-oh triple oh Writer/s: ROBERT BRYSON HALL II
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC,
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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