Curren$y - Bossed Up lyrics

[Verse 1: Trademark Da Skydiver] Real n***as coming up, fake n***as laying down Trademark I'm here to stay, guaranteed you'll see me 'round Stuntin' in some sharp apparrel, khaki slacks, I'm 'laxed and casual With a focused mind, I'm on a straight of narrow I just want what's mines, that's only natural Large estates, cherry wood floors with marble statues I see it in my dreams, so I know it's coming for me n***as tryna block my shine, trust me I ain't worried Back against the wall, I'm yelling, "f** 'em all" I came here to ball, right hand on my balls Left hand middle fingers up cuz I don't give a f** You can tell from my attitude I'm getting bucks Strong kush in the cones got a n***a stuck I'm headed to the top, momma wish me luck Haters wish I fail, even though I will prevail That's just how I feel, but only time will surely tell [Hook: Smoke DZA] Uh, It's a real n***a outing So I'mma wear what I wanna wear, Right Hustlin', I'm mad where I'm at dawg b**hes call me when the money there I pull up, pick up, now grip up Uhhh, and if you hustlin' Put your bands up, bands up And all my real G's stand up and what? Riiight [Verse 2: Young Roddy] And I hotbox the whip, I make it hard for her to breathe My pound game official, make a broad don't want leave Got bags under my eyes from no sleep Got cash under my bed from '03, one love to my plug That n***a put me on my feet, it's still f** them n***as Tell 'em I'm rolling one deep, I ain't scared fool, whats beef? To a cattle who lost his peeps, us ghetto kids Keep more than a trick up our sleeve, I ain't doing that just for me This for my sisters and my C's Or men thats in these streets like A-wax, I ride D's I pray they keep their face on, my n***as with disbelief No disrespect girl, but til I'm gone it's M.O.B That chopper on that front seat like f** it, its M-O-me I got it out that modern Nike shoes, now no cleats They label me a beast, "you better than me?" "n***a, please." A rebel 'til I leave, and 'til I leave, its J-E-T, oouutt [Hook: Smoke DZA] [Verse 3: Smoke DZA] Two years ago I was chopping O's Now I get pound money to rock a show The OG's like "little pappa go" Fly to H-town just to hit Pappadeaux I'm too popular to be normal Die off that OG every night, fool, I'm immortal One time for my little bro, little doobies Just a few months and I smoke, and everything'll be gucci Kushed God, you looking at a new breed My N.O. n***as will k** for me like I'm Drew Breeze Hustler, slash, author See that a rotten apple just another dirty New Yorker Show stopper, hoes jock him, think he's awesome Go rock 'em, big Cuban looking flawless So tell them non-believers they can hold my Johnson King of New York, n***a, Rugby Thompson