4rm Me To U lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, Aye
Catour f*ck it up

[Verse 1]
Gotta sit on this mic ‘cause I can’t keep my thoughts inside me
And I keep them hoes at my spot like Michael Lowrey
Got a bad lil bih from Paris, met her at the Eiffel Tower
Bought a brand new watch for my birthday but I ain’t put no ice around it (no no)
I can’t change the person I am baby but I can change the way that I live (rich homie)
And if a thing happened for a reason, baby I can’t change nothing I did (uh uh)
If I could change anything baby, wouldn't've made you never aborted that kid
But I did and it’s on my mind still (I'm sorry baby)
I been tryna find a way to forgive (tryna find a way)
You want diamonds off in my ear
Shinin', they know I'm clear, behind me, they in the rear
We kickin' pimpin' over here, no lame b*tches over here

[Chorus]
I say them b*tches ain't gettin' paid, on they face a lot of hate
But I ain't trippin' 'cause they do a lot of shade throwin'
Me and my buddy hit a lick last week, we had to split it
All this money boy, I told him let's get paid homie
I do this sh*t for gang gang, gave all of my n*ggas chains
And right now I swear I feel just like a slave owner
All these n*gga takin' swag, hell yeah the homie mad
Come to think about it, they ain't ever pay homage
[Verse 2]
I put a lot these n*ggas on and I still ain't got my credit
But I ain't mad though (nah) 'cause I could've been mad broke (yeah)
I watch my momma work a double just to feed all her kids 'cause that bag slow (she got like three of em)
Gotta make that cash flow (I love you momma)
But I couldn't let my momma struggle, so I got me a job (nah n*gga)
But she ain't know my job require a gun 'cause I rob
She ain't ever understand what was back in the kitchen, residue on the floors (I was hustlin')
She ain't know about the shootout in her truck (fa-fa-fa), until I was involved
She ain't know about the co-defendant I had, kept it one hundred took the charge (I didn't take sh*t)
You the only one put somethin' on my books when I was in jail and I starved (when I was locked up)
Cut from a different cloth, I'm as rare as they come
And I'ma keep ballin' on these b*tches like my hair is gone (rich homie baby)

[Chorus]
I say them b*tches ain't gettin' paid, on they face a lot of hate
But I ain't trippin' 'cause they do a lot of shade throwin'
Me and my buddy hit a lick last week, we had to split it all this
Money boy, I told him let's get paid homie
I do this sh*t for gang gang, gave all of my n*ggas chains
And right now I swear I feel just like a slave owner
All these n*ggas takin' swag, hell yeah the homie mad
Come to think about it they ain't never paid homage

[Outro]
At this point, yeen got to bro, haha nahmsayin, I watch myself put you n*ggas on, ya feel me, so at this point I'm dead n*gga, homie