Attention Lyrics

Schoolboy Q

[Chorus]
...ain't worried
Glidin' through the air, ain't cautious, yeah, yeah, yeah
Mind on the ground, ain't dreamin'
Thing on my waist been leanin', yeah, yeah, yeah
Hustle for a job, they still ain't called back
Dope in the hood ain't movin' like that, uh
Chain and your watch, I need all that, all that
M's in the bank, I need all that
So run it, mane

[Verse]
Front row at the Grammys, I'm getting praises from Jay
Fuck about this award, I'm happy he know my name
Favorite rapper Nas been told me that I'm the best
Had a couple sessions with Dre, knew I would win
Alchemist my favorite producer, and he my friend
All this love from the greats put my passion in pen
Let me tell you 'bout this story, when Quincy died, it had started
I left jail on house arrest and now ever since I've been starvin'
You know pain on my mama's face when the opps can call me a loser
Ain't achieve shit, her son quit sports to become a Crip
'Nother single mother that failed, lost her son in the mix
Workin' hard through all her problems, her son just couldn't be fixed
Got off house arrest, sprinkled some orange in my blue shoes
Nigga, ask Traffic, Baby Deuce, yeah, and T too
Baby Love, Baby Spank, Big Spank, Big Fool
The first Figg Side originals, you ain't gotta recruit
Tony Smack, Floyd, G-Scrap, nigga, the main crew
Flossy B was locked in, but was normal, he came through
Nigga, 51st and Figg, on the corner Mayhem was slaughtered
Months later like the shit ain't happen, I'm with my daughter
At the laundromat, the shots rang off, I ducked to the back
Wishin' for a strap but hear more fire from Tiny Rat
Got the devil on my side while the Lord been pushin' me over
I can finally understand why my uncles was never sober
Deadbeat dad on the gas, that gas my motor
Either grab the mic, nigga, grab the same pistola
I can easily tell my story now and climb from this moment
Just imagine Joy hopes if I died next mornin'
Just imagine some of these rappers that ain't have Q
The godfather of this street shit that gave y'all truth
From Pac, Snoop, Kurupt, Daz, bitch, I'm de'ja` vu
You see my homie in the hood 'cause I hate y'all too, ooh

[Chorus]
Death on my block, ain't worried
Glide through the air, ain't cautious, yeah, yeah, yeah
Mind on the ground, ain't dreamin'
Thing on my waist been leanin', yeah, yeah, yeah
Hustle for a job, they still ain't called back
Dope in the hood, ain't movin' like that, uh
Chain and your watch, I need all that, all that
M's in the bank, I need all that, all that
Ten freaky girls, need all that, all that
Love from the world, need all that
So run it, mane

© 2024 Lyricenter.com