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作词 : Artist Dubose/Joseph Zoumboulias/Damile Coste |
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作曲 : Artist Dubose/Joseph Zoumboulias/Damile Coste |
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It's JoeFromYo |
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I thought every girl I had was the one (Uh, huh), but she was not it |
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Ninety nine present of b!tches be thottin' (Thottin') |
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Blood On My Denim by A Boogie Wit da Hoodie from the album Artist 2.0. If I do the same thing, you'd say I'm not **** (Not **** |
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I could do the same thing and leave you cryin' (Cryin') |
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She got a little deeper through the process (Process) |
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Still addicted to the streets, can't hide it (Hide it) |
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Walk around with two Glizzy's in my pocket (Pocket) |
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I really ****ed it, flip a ***** like a socket (Socket) |
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*****, way before the fame we was wildin' |
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Then they killed my ***** Ralo from the projects (Projects) |
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And it's a shame, all the ******* that was curvin' |
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I see the same damn names in my comments (Comments) |
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She was lookin' O.D. from her side eyes |
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Say she ain't an eater, oh she lied, oh she lied-lied |
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Woke up to three ******* in my bed |
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Made me say it three times, "Oh you fine, oh you fine-fine" |
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I ain't rockin' with no ho bitches or bozo |
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That's a no-no, bitch nah, nah |
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I know they know my flaws, the way i rock Dolce and Gabannas |
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I lost my bitches to the streets when it coulda been me |
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It's ****ed up, they either dead or doin' fed time |
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Boy, you all about your bread, so am I |
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If it's money on your mind, .45 to your head now |
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And I keep it by the dresser |
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That's for any bitch who tried to break my heart, I won't let ya |
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Still got blood on my denims |
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That was all the blood that was in 'em, no more love in a bitch |
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No more love in the bitch but I swear her company made me so comfortable |
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I don't **** with her (Yeah), the way she **** with me |
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And it's probably because I'm from the X, where they take for respect |
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Thought I woulda been it 'till they grave on my depths |
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Same fit for a week, now I hate Nike tech |
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Now I'm a trendsetter from my sweater to my hat |
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Niggas put me on the big ass purple jet |
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I'm flexin' more than ever, she like, "Money make me wet" |
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And if I die, I'ma die for my respect |
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Bury me with like a milly on my neck, uh |
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She was lookin' O.D. from my side eyes |
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Say she ain't an eater, oh she lie all the time, time |
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I woke up to three niggas in my bed |
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Made me say it three times, "Like you fine, oh you fine-fine" |
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I ain't rockin' with no ho bitches or bozo |
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That's a no-no, bitch nah, nah |
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I know they love my fly, the way i rock Dolce and Gabannas |
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I lost my bitches to the streets when it coulda been me |
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It's ****ed up, they either dead or doin' fed time |
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Ho, you all about your press, so am I |
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If it's money on your mind, .45 to your head now |
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And I keep it by the dresser |
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Just in case a bitch try to break my heart, I won't let ya |
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I still got blound on my denims |
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That was the blood that was in 'em, no more love in a bitch |
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Run through it, all the bands that a nigga got |
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I wonder, if the streets till care about me |
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Know I'm sturdy, I can never really talk about it |
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I'm numb to it, I stay still when I hear shots |
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Numb to it, I stay still when I hear shots |
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I hear niggas talkin' 'bout the money that they don't got |
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I used to be up on the corner with my young opp |
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Now I go buy a couple pounds of the frontal |
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I still smoke it by the pound, I get dumb high |
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I still smoke it by the pound like a rasta |
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I send money to my niggas sittin' up, yeah |
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I send money to my daughter, she's a rugrat |
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I been through it but I'm not givin' up, yeah |
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I switch up of different cars now they upset |
