Letra de 'Coupes & Roses' de Maybach Music Group

As a kid I had a lot of money
Knotted up, rubberband money
Next to that xbox, thrown in my jordan box
I think it was my 13's something that I rarely rocked
White and black high top, I used to wear the high socks
Back when I was ballin', shootin' 3's for a dollar

I was hustlin' niggas back then, buyin' momma scratch and wins
Stackin my ends, tryin' to get that robinson
Cause pop was robbin', beatin' 'em back then
I mean back when he was in my life
I still had to 'fend, for my life, it was do or die
Dicky pants and suit and tie; let me decide which way to go

Changes tire wages out to the day I expire so
Bcg’s russian, blue collar to the buckle
All my deals done, midwest nigga with the locs on
Been getting this since voltron, kung-fu grip, bofon
When it comes to getting this paper I’m like kobe and lebron

Coupes & roses, flowers for the dead
Fresh may we bow our heads, give thanks for this bread
Lord keep us safe and our families out the feds
My og ash'd his square, and this is what he said, he said:
Expensive habits, I’m a addict for golden kicks
Leather bunkers and dark-skinned chicks
What can I say? I like to floss a bit

Spend money like a faucet drip, sweat
Pants in top tens like a boston nigga
Everybody say I’m awesome, shit
I’m just makin money talkin' this
Never made one cent off a tossin a brick
I hustled diamonds, got my hands dirty, cleanin my wrist
Gold gat, no rope, still the motion is sick

Blue collar, clean impala, automatic no stick
In case they trip automatics with grip protect his essence
Don’t condone a weapon but they out to catch us slippin'
When you livin' like this the poor feast on the rich
Court seats in the knicks, shout to marn, my nigga
The harder I work more lavish I live
Not bad for a kid who only started with kicks