Weeks
Weeks

Luh Tyler, NoCap - Weeks Lyrics

2

Weeks Lyrics

(Al Geno on the track)

Everybody tryna be a star, but they don't know the feelin'
Everyday we on the grind, mama know we gon' have millions
We gon' run that paper up, I need it up there with the ceilin'
Nigga, if it ain't about that bag, then I don't want no dealings
Everybody tryna be a star, but they don't know the feelin'
Everyday we on the grind, mama know we gon' have millions
We gon' run that paper up, I need it up there with the ceilin'
Nigga, if it ain't about that bag, then I don't want no dealings

I done turned into a star, remember when they doubted me
Now we up there at the top, I know my niggas proud of me
When shit get rough, you gotta keep on grindin', that's just how it be
Man, this shit, here came in perfect timin', know them niggas see
Yeah, nigga, now we gettin' cheese
Man, my nigga just like Stephen Curry, he shoot from the three
Nigga, I'ma make 'em mad and drop them diamonds, they gon' freeze
Nigga snap on beats with ease, I guess that rappin' in my genes

Everybody tryna be a star, but they don't know the feelin'
Everyday we on the grind, mama know we gon' have millions
We gon' run that paper up, I need it up there with the ceilin'
Nigga, if it ain't about that bag, then I don't want no dealings
Everybody tryna be a star, but they don't know the feelin'
Everyday we on the grind, mama know we gon' have millions
We gon' run that paper up, I need it up there with the ceilin'
Nigga, if it ain't about that bag, then I don't want no dealings

Both of my shoes on top a suit, nigga, you know I stand on business
Come from the concrete, I wish you could see the shit that I don't mention
We was just servin' fiends nips, feel like De'Andre Ayton
I pull up Hellcat and shoot, we don't do no conversatin'
Remember days in public housing, now, we flyin' private
Pack in everywhere I stay in, I feel like Bin Ladin
All my niggas in the pen', but I still make deposits
I cut the lean off, been havin' withdrawals for weeks
Been tryna buy love, make sure I keep all the receipts
I can get him touched, ain't talkin' pedophiles, we creep
Lambos and 'Rarri Vs, just certain shit we need for speed
Bro sold that dog food, and I ain't never seen him breathe
Stick up in the box and I'm down below
Blew up, now I see what you around me for
You who I want, but, girl, don't never think I need you
Pull up i8, go ask the hood, I'm the one feed 'em
But, they say I been actin' funny since I got on
Luh Tyler, do you want this bitch? I don't (Al Geno on the track)
Got dream to go buy a island, I'm playin' blind
My bitch, she top tier, but blowin' up my phone cryin'

Everybody tryna be a star, but they don't know the feelin'
Everyday we on the grind, mama know we gon' have millions
We gon' run that paper up, I need it up there with the ceilin'
Nigga, if it ain't about that bag, then I don't want no dealings

Both of my shoes on top a suit, nigga, you know I stand on business
Come from the concrete, I wish you could see the shit that I don't mention
We was just servin' fiends nips, feel like De'Andre Ayton
I pull up Hellcat and shoot, we don't do no conversatin'
Remember days in public housing, now, we flyin' private
Pack in everywhere I stay in, I feel like Bin Ladin
All my niggas in the pen', but I still make deposits
I cut the lean off, been havin' withdrawals for weeks

Writer(s): Gene Hixon, Kobe Crawford, Lucas Grob, Tyler Meeks
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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