Hands in the air if you been broke I see millionaires makin' bread, that's the end goal
Private jet Benzo, can't see through the window So if I die, I pray to God he bring me back a Slim Joe
Slim Joe, 9 -11 rims, folks Back when it was college, I would hook him up with Greg Nose
Teachers say he got a problem dealin' with the damn foe But you ain't even fuckin' with his gym clothes
Don't see the roof, that's Herman Otto J .C. Leroux, 1 ,000 bottles, I see the truth
Just to land a promise, call me to prove I'm just bein' honest
Yeah, mama, I'm speakin' God, I'm speakin' God Mama, I'm speakin' God, I'm speakin' God Mama, I'm speakin' God, I'm speakin' God
Hands in the air if you been broke I see millionaires makin' bread, that's the end goal
Private jet Benzo, can't see through the window So if I die, I pray to God he bring me back a Slim Joe
Sometimes I look at my mother, I think of what could've been Imagine buildin' a palace that's only fit for a queen
My daddy climbed up a ladder until he ran out of steam Reputation was damaged but never ran out of dreams
That's why I talk in my sleep Fortunately, my esteem is awkward for people who awfully talkative in the street
Especially if all the talkin' is cheap I got the recipe, makin' peace with my enemies, my conscience is clean
Don't see the roof, that's Herman Otto Just see the roof, one thousand bottles
I see the truth, just a land of promises Call me to prove I'm just bein' honest
Yeah, mama, I'm speakin' God, I'm speakin' God Mama, I'm speakin' God, I'm speakin' God Mama, I'm speakin' God, I'm speakin' God
Hands in the air if you been broke I see millionaires makin' bread, that's the end, though
Private jet Benzo, can't see through the window So if I die, I pray to God he bring me back a Slim Joe
Yeah, I'm in this bitch with Mandela They pull my name out the envelope, you should fuck with the winners
You got some buzz from your single, but that's just luck for beginners I'm comin' back in another life just to stunt on your children
Drop top for the summertime, proposin' this toast Smokin' stone goals like I'm number nine
Every one of these flows, my foes gon' analyze Eyes closed while I fantasize
Nice clothes and my jewelry ice cold like savannah drive Power moves bein' strategized
So if I die, I'm leavin' behind some real dough Or bring me back a Slim Joe, but still hope
Hands in the air if you been broke I see millionaires makin' bread, that's the end, though
Private jet Benzo, can't see through the window So if I die, I pray to God he bring me back a Slim Joe
