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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]
[Lyrics from: https:/lyrics.az/bryson-tiller/t-r-a-p-s-o-u-l/502-come-up.html]
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

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