Bryson Tiller - 502 Come Up lyrics

Published

0 1066 0

Bryson Tiller - 502 Come Up lyrics

[Intro] Yeah-yeah-eah-eah For real though, it's so wild now This sh** crazy yeah [Verse 1] Woke up in the hills this morning Asking myself, how did I get here this morning? Vonte Parker in that till and orange And Russell in that gold and purple Youngest from the Ville, imported I used to sit up in my room and ponder Finished school and get a Doctors I'm twenty-two, I gotta get it now Man who knew he'd have it figured out? Trapsoul, man, I crack codes Crack c**aine, that's what we putting out There f** n***as saying Don't forget when you was broke, I was living And some say there's levels to this sh** Damn look at all the levels that I skipped Feeling like there's a medal I should get All these haters getting heavy on my dick Look at my n***as, chasing paper Getting books with my n***as How the f** can people back home say I shook on my n***as Your two cents ain't working for me All you n***as sound commercial to me, man I don't like commercial n***as Please shut the f** up before I hurt you f** your feelings Don't take it personal, it's nothing personal This a Derby City come up, this a Derby City vertical First forty-eight, straight murder you [Interlude] For years and years we waited on this Living in a place folks didn't know exist Surprise motherf**er, we up in this b**h I said I'm back and I'm so much better I'm so, so much better And I won't stop (Louis) I can't stop Not now (Louis) not ever (Louis, Louis) [Verse 2] Louis slugger with the hits Knock them out the park then I'm knocking down your b**h I'm watching how you pitch I'm not from Houston, no, I'm not from 'round the six Got the four series, I should cop the six after the world series I just taught the rich 'bout palm trees and bad b**hes And how these snakes can harm me with bad business Damn, f** out of here n***a It's very rare for young black men to come up out of here n***a Some will call it luck and some will call me up I ain't heard from you in years Please get the f** out my ear n***a My peers get it Only G-O-D can judge me, f** the jurisdiction I'm working, ain't got time for thirsting Over how these chicks appear in pictures I'm just painting crystal clear pictures Brushing up on my lyrics n***a I just wish momma was here to live up under chandeliers with us I guess all I ever had to do was take this sh** a little more serious [Outro] Let's get it There's not much to say Woah, I'm from the southside God Tiller