[Lyrics for Currensy – Reagan Era]
Can’t play the backfield no more
I just don’t…belong…own
Member of a fly society
Styles I got several varieties
As a child this guy memorized
Scarface in its… Motherf*cka you knoww
For all of the bitches I
Might take home
Spray my shirt down
Dolce & Gabbana cologne
Comin down like my homeboys
From Houston
Got my celly on silent
I’m ignorin my phone
Diamonds, Diamonds on my band
Cause that’s right where they belong
Like a trumpet or some symbols
Or a set of trombones
Your bitch chose to roam
In a Spitta zone
Now your drunk watchin E.T.
Wishing she phone home
But deep in your heart
You knowin she wont
Cause I’m a different type of nigga
And that’s just what she wants
Groundbreaking, Dr. Jay’s first dunk
Stealing bases Willie Mays I’m gone
Can’t play the backfield no more
I just don’t think that’s where I belong
I do better on my own
Swag crucial, Honestly
It gotta be cause niggas that
You listenin to probably
Stole his style from me
Bitter, neva, I come up with
Something betta, have to catch
An elevator all the way up to my level
Playin Metal Gear Solid
On the playstation 3 for 6 hours
My girl in the bedroom sleeping
I’m not tired, I would call over
A couple of my pilots
But them niggas loud, they dont
Know how to be quiet
Shorty gonna wake up and come up
In here wildin, hollerin like Keisha did
Tommy, If you aint see Belly
You dont nothin about it
What else can you tell me
But my flow so polished
Took it up a notch with the rhymin
Trynna bury spitta in the grave
At the bottom, climed up out it
Knock you in the same hole and
Stand on top it
Consistent flow, Currensy the hot-spitta
Stay so on topic
Other niggas lost they need to see
The golden compass
Brother I’m a boss like Ross
Spitta nigga hot like sauce
At the And One game breakin
Motherf*ckas off
I had a good job I thought
But I couldnt get along with the
People in charge I grab my timecard
Punched out, I’m off
Soft-spoken but a nigga not soft
Not at all real niggas stand tall
For something
Make sure I don’t fall for nothing
In this game, it’s pain for
The up and coming
No handouts cause
Niggas don’t owe you nothing
Gotta do it for dolo
Flashbacks to the conversation
Took place between Faith and Monolo
The world chico and everything in it
I said it, I meant it
I get it, I spend it
Comfortable living till a motherf*cker finished
If I’m in it then you know it’s not kidding
If I’m in it know it got a nice engine
You could be a mile away
And still hear it
That’s classic american muscle
Stole my bitches numbers and a ipod shuffle
I call her over to cut her
You call her over to cuddle
Knock youself out boy
You can’t knock my hustle
I’m fresh, dressed like a million bucks
Labels offering checks
For a million bucks
Ask Roddie if he thought
A million was enough
He said yes cause he can
Hit the streets and triple it up
I’m a member of a fly society
Styles I got several varieties
As child this guy memorized
Scarface in it’s entirety
’80s drug era inspired me
That’s why I dress how I dress
Walk how I walk
That’s why I rep what I rep
Talk how I talk
Two rope chains both of them gold
I got a swagga like I just came home woah
I’m a member of a fly society
Styles I got several varieties
As child this guy memorized
Scarface in it’s entirety
’80s drug era inspired me
That’s why I dress how I dress
Walk how I walk
That’s why I rep what I rep
Talk how I talk
Two rope chains both of them gold
I got a swagga like I just came home woah
Where haven’t we been yet (Where haven’t we been yet)
Motherf*cka You Know
You see them airplanes…