The Beach
The Beach

Curren$y ft. Jim Jones - The Beach Lyrics

5
The Beach Music Video

The Beach Lyrics

The margin is wide (yeah, yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Y'all better call TY tell him come grab that
(Between hood rich and wealth)
Before I forget what I was doin' with that
(Stack up your paper)
Still stoned, still on
Said I don't fuck with suckers back then
And I still don't
Still stoned, still on
(In this bitch with this heavy ass chain)

You more concerned with them hoes than yourself
That's detrimental to your mental health
The margin is wide between hood rich and wealth
Separate it bro, step up your paper
I heard you stressed out, you been missin' payments
They talkin' about you bad on them gossip pages
Same ones who celebrated
Sell you out later
Sell you down the road for coins that was only silver and gold plated
That shit wasn't real
But the consequences really is
Somethin' you could feel
Shit producin' tears, wasted years
Wasted game in the ears of a lame
Start applyin', instead of cryin' and whinin'
'Bout who else shinin' and how you ain't got it
I don't come to pity parties
I'm out there gettin' it, shorty

They open that shit up for me
Said I was sorry for the Wraith but not for my Ferrari
Slidin' through the lobby all my chains on
My ex-bitch saw me, started talkin'
My current lady walked up on me
Introduced them to each other, neither one was salty
Matter of a fact they was sweet on each other
Then we layed up in a crib on a beach for the summer
(Layed up in a crib on a beach for the summer)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, nigga
Still stoned, still on
Said I don't fuck with fake bitches back then and now I still don't

(Capo)
Goin' back and forth with these bars like a predicate
All this water on I can't tell you how wet she drip
They gonna dry your mother's eye if they come through wettin' shit
I tell you the whole story but you niggas know the rest of it (you know the story)
The back of the back it got seats like a craftmatic
Runnin' through these dirty streets where they blast 'matics
He got hit up in his car, he tryna breathe like an asthmatic
I was always ready for the beef when I had static (I'm ready)
Now give me room, the cars big like a yacht, bitch
I don't smoke cigs but there's a SIG in the drop (I got it)
And watch for your safety because this trigger don't lock (uh-uh)
The first nigga that move, that's the first nigga gettin' shot

They open that shit up for me
Said I was sorry for the Wraith but not for my Ferrari
Slidin' through the lobby all my chains on
My ex-bitch saw me, started talkin'
My current lady walked up on me
Introduced them to each other, neither one was salty
Matter of a fact they was sweet on each other
Then we layed up in a crib on a beach for the summer
(Layed up in a crib on a beach for the summer)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, nigga
Still stoned, still on
Said I don't fuck with fake bitches back then and now I still don't

Eastside

"Do I know you"
"I don't think so"
"No, why you smilin'?"
"Why are you smilin'"
"I don't know"
"I know who you are, you Americano"
"Yeah"
"Yeah, Augusto would like to see you immediately
"Huh?"
Augusto would like to see you"

Writer(s): Shante Scott Franklin, Joseph Guillermo Jones II
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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