Nasty C - Vent lyrics

[Verse 1] Look, I’m a business minded n***a, n***a I can sell life and take it But I’m just a “stay up out of jail” type I’m the type to only let them see my tail lights I’m the type to do my shopping through a mailbox Poppa sent me a text and told me I’m heaven sent I never became a doctor but made me some M’s and M’s They tried to keep me on the other side of the fence And now my n***a’s living on the other side of the lens We made it, and made it possible, b***h Money long as a gospel song It’s just the perfect answer when I don’t know what’s right or wrong It’s either that or light a bong and write a song It’s purple rain, purple rain, keep the wipers on I work the nights and days, where you think I got my stripes did from? Purple rain, purple rain, keep the wipers on When Zyne gave me a shot I promised me to keep my snipers on (B***h go!) [Break] Let it go (x3), Look.. I got it [Verse 2] And now it’s bull’s eye bro-bro I made my people proud to be a Ngcobo You’ll understand this s**t when you can get to fly solo And crack your brain tryna figure out if you want the door suicide or normal That’s suicide without a pill or rope Dude I’m out here looking like I tripped and fell in gold Dude my album sounding like it tripped and fell in gold These women going platinum how they out here selling souls These b*****s going platinum how they out here selling p***y I was a diamond in the rough and then the right hands took me The right hands found me Success is like a song on replay everyday I like how that s**t sounding (Man!) F**k it man I think that s**t’s a smash I jam to that s**t until I pa** out Mom I’m happy that you let my daddy smash You know that’s my n***a I wouldn’t never leave him a**-out I got 20k in my pocket That’s heavy enough to keep me grounded I don’t let the money leave, no I always keep it grounded That’s just music to my ears and I keep it at its loudest Look how many girls can say they had the time of their life When I turned somebody’s daughter into a wife for the night It’s ironic cause I’m so not tryna get cuffed But I’m here committing crimes With the way I’m k**ing time with your life Won’t you let the game changers do the f*****g thing I’m still gone, won’t you fill me up another tank Besides my n****s I don’t know another soul to thank We do the victory dance all the way to the f*****g bank Yeah, yeah, yeah that’s some winning s**t And you get to tell your grandchildren that you witnessed it – Bad Hair