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PAID Lyrics - Artist : TOBi
Yeah, yeah, I don't give a fuck, yeah
And it feels so good I don't give a fuck, yeah I was raised with a wooden spoon Which felt denser than silver Its contents were hot Through caring hands delivered I'm grateful and paid in full I love you, Mitch But it's time I go on my own Hey, ah, uh Hey Whoa Look, I ain't no little dude I ain't no punk I ain't no child Gettin' ridiculed by swimming pools like "Fools, I ain't gon' jump" Nah, I split your crew like syllables When an imbecile read a word that's a little too difficult For his mental state Kung Lao with the finish move Double the principal off the interest rate Mmm, that's the power of potential That's the power I shower on instrumentals Mo' money, mo' problems, I'm so sorry I don't subscribe by it, let me find out myself Mot till I'm post mortem Wrote 'bout it Locker room shame I ain't changin' for nobody You know 'bout it, you nobody Hmm, hey, and it's our season Saucy got me blowin' trees and all the above I was raised with a wooden spoon Which felt denser than silver Its contents were hot Through caring hands delivered I'm grateful and paid in full I love you, Mitch But it's time I go I feel sorry for boys Actin' rich, but they're poor Buyin' bottles at clubs But they sleep on the floor It's the things we were taught He be singin' along How he got a Bugatti But he can't afford a Ford? Or get behind a Honda Get your life in Accord Introduced since the cradle Don't be stuck till the morgue Now I'm killin' 'em all With a red dot Soon as Nate Smith hit record It's a head shot Pop, pop, pop, my Lord Bring it on, bring it on Oh, mi cherie amor She jumpin' for joy Her True Religion is Christian Dior And Louboutin, either or We settlin' scores We ain't lookin' for war We just lookin' to even the score Step inside a court like "Yeah, bitch, I'm here, nigga Here's fifty to clear, I share with you I gotcha, I'm sure you're gonna share with us" Hmm, I sound off to the sound of counterclockwise Mmm, to the houses where we got the dress in gold, black Huh, I got 'em bouncin' to the beat, make your baby drop down Hmm I was raised with a wooden spoon Which felt denser than silver Its contents were hot Through caring hands delivered I'm grateful and paid in full I love you, Mitch But it's time I go on my own too |
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