Bryson Tiller - Like clockwork lyrics

Man, I guess it all worked out I’m gettin’ to it like clockwork now My haters clocked in, they all burned out They talk s**t, but it’s my turn now And it should’ve been my first route Young Tiller, what the f**k was you worried about? Who was talkin’ all that s**t? I’ma bury them now I’ma tell it like it is, I’m airin’ ’em out But when I think about it, I should be blurrin’ ’em out You can’t be in this picture, no certain, no how Man, these ni**as, they don’t even deserve the clout I got real ni**as all in my circle now I’m in the hills with a shawty, she workin’ out Right by the pool, and I got business mergers now I love the view and I ain’t trippin’ off [birdies?] now I kinda knew this s**t was comin’ I’m learnin’ how, how to manifest I can’t stress it enough, gal You don’t believe in yourself, you won’t get nothin’ at all But when you pleadin’ for help, you won’t gettin’ nothin’ at all You ni**as greedy, and this is not one for all This industry full of lames and a bunch of fraud ni**as So don’t ask me why Ion’t f**k with y’all ni**as But I got Swan with me, and Richie and PARTY And then Chase Roll, Angela, Mike in Atlanta But I know if I call him, he gon’ answer then We all family, T R A P S O U L, we at the GRAMMYs, yeah Rap flows, but I’m cool like Sammi, yeah I think it’s clear why they don’t understand me I took the L’s that these ni**as wanted to hand me And humbly, I fell back, makin’ a plan for me To comeback healthy I don’t know what held me back for so long But look now Man, I guess it all worked out I’m gettin’ to it like clockwork now My haters clocked in, they all burned out They talk s**t, but it’s my turn now And it should’ve been my first route Young Tiller, what the f**k was you worried about? Who was talkin’ all that s**t? I’ma bury them now I’ma tell it like it is, I’m airin’ ’em out Matter of fact, I put this s**t in the furnace now So don’t be comin’ to me with all that word to mouth I got the flame and they sayin’ it’s burnin’ out But if I light the s**t again, I’m burnin’ it down I’ma write a hit again, I’m writin’ it now I really couldn’t give a f**k ’bout who likin’ me now I’m the guy that these critics is writin’ about But what I’m writin worth a milli’, how could you feel me? Can’t n***a, I don’t care how you rank a n***a I blessed you, you really should be thankin’ a n***a I made your favorite rapper bring his A-game with him And his A-game still can’t hang with ’em F**k a hater and whoever came with him And this is to whoever lost faith in him Can’t tell me that, “Tiller ain’t great,” n***a I got the fire on the way, better wait, n***a Goddamn I guess it all worked out I’m gettin’ to it like clockwork now My haters clocked in, they all burned out They talk s**t, but it’s my turn now And it should’ve been my first route Young Tiller, what the f**k was you worried about? Who was talkin’ all that s**t? I’ma bury them now I’ma tell it like it is, I’m airin’ ’em out