NFRNTCHU ft. Sir Michael Rocks & Curtis Williams

[Produced by Meechie Einstein] [Verse 1: Sam King] Today I woke on my own Work on my own Who chirping my phone Oh you need to fix Parfait my wrist Vegas ain't that, Vegas is this And you get dismissed when you hit this strip Couldn't take this dab, couldn't take this drip Couldn't open my zip, couldn't roll my blunt You ain't no king, don't recognize ya Better recognize real when it gets this close, I'm right in front you It's SK 3­4 , you know you 1­2 Suburban trappin , And I can Front You The Week is heavy, said what the fuck you gone do Stand up on my own Two Manifest This Now Many Festivals Slanging this Mountain Just tryna Rock Shot to your Boulder Leave you In Pebbles My hat is red not a Blood Just a Rebel And I'm running , Are you coming Don't be mad when you get left This is real Hip Hop who you Tryna Impress Doing my dance but it look like a bench Press [Hook/Chorus] Hope that money where yo mouth is when i confront you This shit right here not for the low but I can front you Should be worried bout your money, till then i confront you I'm out here trappin' often, put that shit right NFRNTCHU [Verse 2: Sir Michael Rocks] I wake up round 12 and feed my motherfuckin' monkey I'm wrappin' up and shippin' them P's all the way cross the country Tuna rolls and spider rolls i'm invitin' hoes to my sushi spot Couple bougie THOTs, man my heart is cold the jacuzzi's hot Got a choke up hold with the uzi cocked? When my birds in the air like a plasma Pushin' these pussys into the miasma faster Lotta niggas comin' with me wherever I go Where the fuck were niggas when i was livin' in Chicago Dyin' in Chicago, hand on the rifle Day you was born you were dead upon arrival Spent all my money tryna sue this nigga But what i really should have did is shoot this nigga Would've cost me less to just pay my bail It'll be a ice cold day in hell, before i take another nigga into federal court, Fuck that I stay shipping' those cell phones, my homie stay with them pros When I say we ordering J's, I ain't talkin bout no shoes [Hook/Chorus] [Verse 3: Curtis Willams] Young rich negro, got a stylist name Nego I keep kush so we can blaze, I'm passin' blunts to my people First I got a little, then i went and got a lot Bust it down and roll it, you pussys still tryna plot Closet worth a check, and i ain't worried 'bout sucka niggas I just want the bread so we can flex I'm rarely every sober Got a pocket full of blunts and bitch im still rollin Can't fold it, fuck you nigga we blow it White lines in the morning She need this shit like some Folgers Whiskey in the booth, bitch i'm getting tipsy And i'm still drinkin' MOney over everything Money on the flo' Niggas talkin' shit, i'll have them niggas at yo do' We want everything, everything gold Getting new money but my money old [Hook/Chorus]