t.o. producedit, saiming & crtl - carhartt top lyrics
[verse 1: saiming]
it’s sms, extravagant mam
i make songs that are hotter than km
i mean [?], the hit’s fryin’ (fryin’)
if i’m lyin’ then i’m airborne
i been out here but i’m not pure born
i can’t see obstacles in my way
she’s a crowd in a serious setlist, and i sense that i get what i’m here for
i wake up, give thanks in the a.m. (in the morning)
and then carpay dm
i work hard and now my monthly’s up and now they wanna say “let’s work” in dms
i spelled a word wrong, turned it to my catchphrase, ’cause i’m sm wit’ a tm
i rock air forces and not tms
i laid down, gave thanks in the p.m
smoother than satin, sharper than steel
i don’t worry about chasin’ a quick payday ’cause i make tunes that they feel
i been blessed with a pen like i’m [?], so i make foods that they heal
and my people remind me to keep grindin’, ’cause i’ll make it
if i keep it, if i keep it
smoother than satin, sharper than steel
i don’t worry about chasin’ a quick payday ’cause i make tunes that they feel
i been blessed with a pen like i’m [?] so i make foods that they heal
and my people remind me to keep grindin’, ’cause i’ll make it
if i keep it, if i keep it real
[verse 2: crtl]
bare man switch sides, so campbell
socks with the slides, we don’t rock no sandals
i see ‘nough man change like randall
best in the game, tryna take that mantle (chi)
music too hot to handle (ay), cah my flow’s too sav’, vandal
hit stu’ with bex ’round 6, bare smoke in the room, two tick like cankles
bare smoke in the room, got a yg coughin’
two days on a tea break, hit up the shubs, tryna get that poppin’
t on the beat, get that choppin’ (chi)
the c been dishin’ out ‘nough heat
that’s why the streets sayin’ “when are you droppin’?” (ay)
waitin’ for that distro p to hit (ay), jd and get coppin’
i rep the capital c from the east side, e17 my reside
tryna see more chips than the seaside
and i stay by bread like cheapside
say you’re colder than me, i guess he lied
better than the c, i doubt it (nah)
t seen so much p off these beats, these days he might need an accountant (true)
i’m tryna make that two spin, sold out shows with the mandem inside (bap)
okay, i ain’t a big guy, but i’m tryna see cartel hit the big time
hit up the shoon for a quick bite
with all of the gang, that’s a big vibe
me and si in the stu’ ’til like midnight
man pick up the pen then i ignite
[verse 3: saiming & crtl]
i lift this pen like a lighter
and they roll when i stop and drop, you would think that i sold them a three+five
but it’s just these vibes, i’ll disperse
i’ll sell shows, get notes and get burst (burst)
i wanna cop me a red stipe, i don’t wanna cop me a magnum
but i don’t know which one to get, i’m aggy (mad)
i might just pop to the shops, “ayo boss, how much there for a maggy?”
i need silver rizla, hula hoops and a pouch of the baccy
more time catch me in baggy jeans, but i got steeze in my nike tracky
jump in the passy, cut through hackney
shubs packed out on my akhis
i’m in the dance with familiar faces, i didn’t purchase a ticket
’cause my sis got a link for the ‘list
and she pulled some strings how she’s doing up laces
i been livin’ this rockstar life, in the shubs on a regular basis
you can find me where the bass is
with the movers and the shakers
in a
steezy new carhartt top
copped that from the thrift shop
need my wallet fatter than rick ross
i’m from the ends, man shouts out whipps cross (chi, shouts out whipps cross)
tt weed and it taste like biscoff
cartels they risin’, that’s why their mans stay pissed off
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