Songtext zu 'Soul Child (feat. Lil Wayne)' von Yung Bleu

Yeah (yeah, yeah)
For better or worse I'm here with you (for better or worse)

I just logged of the internet, 'cause niggas be fake beefin'
I showed these niggas what to do with a drake feature (yeah)
Six-time nominated, used to wait in line, now they got us accommodated (yeah)
Just think about the last seven months that I dominated (yeah)
The cars that we drive come in like common dеnominators
You could be the one livin' this lifе or the commentator
I hope I live a life to see my niggas exonerated, while they gettin' cancer (cancer)
I'm not a slave in my whip, I'm ownin' my masters
When I drop that Moon boy I took off like NASA (skrrt)
I'm finally at a place where we can talk 'bout the fucked shit (fuck it)
Don't need you complainin' because I go through enough shit
These niggas all my sons like I grew up on bushwick
I went from no money on my books to overbooked, bitch
We out in palestine, they had to give me my flowers like I'm their valentine
It was a matter of time, I never talked to the cops when it was a matter of crime
How the fuck a legal drug turned to a federal crime?
I got some niggas in prison who doin' federal time
And I heard you niggas fallin' off, I could feel the decline
My shit through the roof, don't give a fuck how the ceilin' designed
Hangin' with some made niggas who be on militant time
You niggas toy soldiers, when they was tryna keep me in the game, I crossed over
Feds tryna intercept the pack and got moss'd over
Filipino hoes in the room get tossed over
Now look at me cross-over (yeah)
And I rap like my life depend on this shit (it does, nigga)
I ain't got no love for these bitches, yeah
They never treated me special, they never did shit but be extra
No uber, make her drive herself like a tesla
Guns on the dresser came with a compresser
Don't you treat, treat, treat me like no sixth man, uh, yeah
Ayy, tell the valet: Bring the urus to the parking lot
I got shooters in this car, don't whip up in this parking spot
I know niggas talk a lot 'cause they all make 'em walk a lot
I'm bougie, what you talkin' 'bout? You never sucked this dick so stop
Bitches, they be fake as fuck, fake ass, fake titties
Fake attitude, hoe, actin' like you don't drink henny
Talkin' 'bout some 1942, what you gon' do to get it?
Ayy, I prolly got half of your rent, if not, then get evicted
Can’t be the hottest in the city, I'm tryna take over the whole fuckin' world

The world, craig
Always first, never second, suck my third leg
Got her legs in the air like some bird legs
Fuck her till she can't feel her legs like a mermaid
I'm a perc' head, lean fiend, I'm a weed boy
Coke on my fingers, work the key like a keyboard
Cocaine cowboy, yee haw, high comin' down
Put some pounds on the other side of the see-saw
Yung bleu, I got 'em, I one-two-and out ‘em
Put the gun to his collar, and alhamdulillah'd 'em, yeah
Bumbu and olives, mushroom and molly
Been a pro since a kid like the young luka dončIć
Promethazine make my punch punch like muhammad
New orleans love me like Miami love udonis
Yeah, red bandana and blue collar
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Soul child in this bitch
Platinum teeth but they ain't no smiles in this bitch
What's beef? Get the whole cow in this bitch
If you ain't slatt, keep your nose out of this shit, yeah

Yeah (yeah, yeah)
For better or worse I'm here with you (for better or worse)