Mr. Porter - Y.O.U. lyrics

Published

0 187 0

Mr. Porter - Y.O.U. lyrics

Let me tell you who I am And what this life really meant to me Young n***a barely been living a quarter century But mentally I'm ahead of these lames Also I'm grown, ho I ain't understanding these games I be in the zone like the Drake and Weeknd song I'm on a whole other level Roulette bets with the devil On whether I'd be successful at this rap sh** He get read, I'm there Give me heaven per 7 I'm black b**h For you What's your question, homeboy? Well we're basically I've been taking me Out of my element And making me question myself And if I'm relevant Mistaking me for one of these n***as with no talent Hating me, make me wanna resort to violence Silence is all I need to be good I just need to be successful I don't need to be hood I'm trying to grow up, get invited to the Grammy's Show up, win something, get upstage and play all salsa For you You got a question over yourself? You know what they say I was heaven sent just to represent I'm y'all boys to the hood I'm 106 my n***a By choice to show'em just where we come from Miss me with that hum drum Leave a couple nuts on your face That's a love song Punched, about to get beat down Shots come up with any reason to speak down I don't speak clown, but deep down I think you boys mad Cause I'm doing everything you wish you had And I do it for you See just sit down and let me talk for a minute I got the floor I don't trust nobody in this freaking world Ain't met a b**h yet fit to be my freaking girl Y'all on that socialite sh** f** a social life, music and nothing All them VH1 a**holes, they usually fronting It's the man in me, posess no vanity Heavy as the hand of G-O-D But I know he understanding me Standing three feet away from gold, very patient Keep the iron on my side for you Perry Masons And I ain't never had sh** But three hands on the clock And one hand on my dick and one hand on the mic Just hoping something might slip Before I'm too old to sit Pacemaker eatin sh** that taste like bricks I get kicks f**ing with your mind For leisure Staring contests with the blind I see you Everybody know I can rap but that ain't enough I'm from Mississippi, they always trying to make it tough These lumberjacks want me axed, 86 I was born in '87 though so y'all can take a dick Take a dip in a pool of acid and let it eat through Maybe the you'll find your heart and be true And that's advice for you I swear I'd do it for you I'd do it for you All for you Swag do it for you Not for me for you My underdogs Swag do it for you To tine own self be truer