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3rd wave – no help lyrics

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i don’t even know my wealth
even if i don’t make it
i don’t need your help
can’t f-ck with them they not real
ain’t real with themselves
came from the jump
i had to come from the mud
gotta keep running up
till my pockets stuffed
imma try my luck
you gon duck
you gon run
(run, run)
if you don’t want proublems
if you don’t want proublems
cause if you want them proublems
we gon come and solve em
sometimes i roll with robbers

somebody come and stop us
we might blow up
we might roll up
get the check like hold up
need our dough up

i’m rolling these grams up like an addict
i got the hunnids i gotta go stash em
i keep the hunnids they all in my mattress
they keep on talking but never be packing
and i gotta keep on stacking up
i’m not average
if you talking i could really give two f-cks
smoking on loud it’s so loud like the speakers
and i need my wrist iced out new freezer
i’m up inside i’m playing you was in the bleachers
i found out i do not need ya

b-tch we coming threw your speakers
send the verse we don’t need to meet ya
b-tch i’m stripped out in some new adidas
we was cold now they want some features
i was never good in math cl-ss
i was blowing on that strong gas
need it slo mo
i’m in slo mo
pockets low though
i need more dough
running out of time
get the cash i’m blind
then i hit recline
feel it in my spine
running all these drugs
i could feel it in my spine
feel it in my spine
yeah
ain’t no time for that sh-t
f-ck around and slide wit that b-tch
you gon die wit that b-tch
f-ck around and slide wit that sh-t
you gon slide for all that sh-t
you gon die for this sh-t
imma hop up in my whip
imma get another grip

they gon say some turn around they didn’t say it
they gon say some turn around they didn’t say it
i ain’t say sh-t
you ain’t say sh-t?
what you mean b-tch ?

they gon say some turn around and say they didn’t
they gon prove some turn around and then they didn’t
they gon prove some turn around and then they finished
and then they finished, i roll another swisher
ay but i don’t f-ck with swishers no more
i be blowing big joints full of dro
counting threw my figures i need more packs in
thumbing threw my hoodies i need more fashion
i need more fashion
so you know you i get them racks in
so you know i’m homies sliding
so you know that we ain’t dying
we accustomed to this violence