Notes To Self - Popular Music Lyrics

Notes To Self - Popular Music Lyrics

[Verse 1]

Real shit, real shit, get it while it's hot

You ain't got to pay for it, get it when it drops

Get up on your game, you can get it on them blogs

Get up on your Facebook, and can get it on your wall

She got to have a shaker, and she get it from her mom

Spaghetti ball ye's and the recipe from mom

We getting that pay, yea we getting that bomb

Scarface in the club, boy I'm getting that blanc

I'mma be where they roll that stuff

They grow that stuff in Holland man

I'mma need y'all to hold that blunt

And roll that up for all the fam

For the girl who ride with us, talk with us, taking shots with us

And probably have a job at the doctors office, were it not for us

Even when it's so cold

Shorty go get her clothes off shake it like a snow blow

Shotgun, rolling something, sitting in the gold coast

Dipping in the gold Rolles, twisted like a Rold's Gold

[Hook]

Fuck a rapper, what you tryna' say

Sound like every other rapper from around the way

Fuck a rapper, I ain't got the time of day

[Verse 2]

This is for gat-packers and backpackers

If you want to front on that shit, I guess you ass-backwards

I ask after I shoot, I laugh after your group is done rapping

Dawg, I'm after the troup

Proof in living, are you getting what you're giving

I was told you don't need a shotgun to be driven

We going or a ride, knuckle up or buckle up

Stunt stunt driving, I'm about to double up

Bro still smoking, you can call it Double Dutch

Got the pot boiling, we about to double up

This shit is done, put a fork in it

Oh we about to pop off, put a cork in it

If you're gonna whine, I'm a Cracker Barrel

Want some cheese with that wine, try this Cracker Barrel

People ask me when I rhyme why I'm cavalier

It's cause I'm moving to Miami in like half a year

[Hook]

[Verse 3]

5,000 days of thunder

Switching lanes while I cruise in these Days of Summer

All 500 like my days are numbered

Words are confused, word to Jason Lundin, but it's all mine

We down at Utica, locals rolling arugula

Fuck a fendy, got Cubans up in the humidor

I ain't smoking, just suited up like a luchador

I ain't stuntin', just naked women, and new decor

Now we at Syracuse, shorty want to share a room

Watching Kira sidewalk, cure herself with a cure of carrot juice

This is real, this is rap, this is televised

This for Preem, this for Mac, this for Malakai

9, 5, I was Mark Ecko

Dropping hard lines, word to Art Deco

In a car rental, 2012 in that car

Hard acrylic orange net, I feel like Carmelo

[Hook]