𝗙𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝗢𝗰𝗲𝗮𝗻 | 𝗙𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗲 [𝗦𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗱 & 𝗥𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗯𝗲𝗱]

𝙇𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙄𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝘽𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙬 --- [Intro] Alright, hold on [Verse 1] If I was being honest I'd say long as I could fuck three times a day and not skip a meal, I'm good I used to work on my feet for seven dollars a hour Call my mama like, "Mama I ain't making minimum wage, mama I'm on, mama, I'm on Now I'm making 400, 600, 800K, mama To stand on my feet, mama Play these songs, it's therapy, mama They paying me, mama I should be paying them" I should be paying y'all, honest to God I'm just a guy, I'm not a god Sometimes I feel like I'm a god, but I'm not a god If I was, I don't know which heaven would have me, mama Let me run this bitch, I'ma run it into the ground, mama, the whole galaxy Goddamn, fuck these lames, they don't want none Fuck these lames, they don't want none Fuck these niggas Fuck these niggas, they don't want none Fuck these niggas Fuck you niggas and Fuck me if I hated on you [Verse 2] I'ma stick around I'm gon' let my nuts hang Nigga, you got some just like me, don't you? Or maybe not just like me You know I'm Africano Americano And even if you're half Japanese, roots run deep Family tree throw a big shadow (Jamming to the rhythm) Tech company, please give me immortality (It's a face to face) I'm going rapidly, fading drastically (Keep me high, Castrati) Damn (Punani fade the stress) Or pull the zip down Wet your lips first, lick the tip now (Bugatti left some stretch marks on that freeway) Smoke somethin' (Marks on that freeway) They tryna find 2Pac Don't let 'em find 2Pac He evade the press He escape the stress La, la-la-la-la La, la-la-la-la La-la-la [Verse 3] I'll keep quiet and let you run your phone bill up I know you love to talk I ain't on your schedule I ain't on no schedule I ain't had me a job since 2009 I ain't on no sales floor You say I'm changing on you I feel like Selena They wanna murder a nigga, murder me like Selena You must ain't get the memo I don't cuff bitches no more But your bitch my exception Come get her outta my photo I only got one four-door Remember when I had that Lexus, no Our friendship don't go back that far Tyler slept on my sofa, yeah Niggas go back that far I ain't smoked all year This the last song, so I'm finna wipe that off Tolerance is so low, still smoke a whole 'gar Ménage on my birthday, tap out on the first stroke 'Cause this ain't no work day, she don't give head anyway 'Cause what niggas say, that's what she tell her man What a difference distance makes Niggas wan' fight in the streets Now shit startin' to make my hands hurt Jay hit me on the email, said I oughta act my net worth Dog, this is chess now, not fetch, I ain't runnin' for a nigga Ain't ran since track meets, that's the only time I ran from a nigga You can change this track now, could've changed this bitch a long time ago —know and —know, —know and —know Shout out to Hollygrove, I'm from that 7th, though Twins know and Lance know, Clark know and Matt know Shit went one-eighty on me, please run that back, though --- # [Na’kel] Spend a couple hours with my family and I would go out and do like everything that I ever thought about trying [Ryan] I don't know, there's a lot of things that you could do That's it [Mikey] How far is a light-year? How far is a light-year? (I'd say like a thousand years?) --- #frankocean #futurafree #blonde