Peezy - Good & Bad (Outro) lyrics

[Intro] I'm just sittin' here, kickin' it with Jetto We was just talkin' 'bout how we used to always sleep on motherfu*kin' In one apartment twelve deep Now everybody got mansions and sh*t Blue Benzes, blue Escalades now Millionaires and sh*t, you know This life crazy, like, God is good [Verse] I sold crack out granny house, now I'm a millionaire I'm at the top, but it don't feel right without my ni**as here When a ni**a down bad, you see who really care When you broke and on your dick, it ain't no b*tches there I ain't goin' back to jail, 'cause ain't no b*tches there But real talk, it really wasn't sh*t, I got rich in there Bro, bеfore they count at 9:30, check my Instagram You don't know how it feel to hеar your name and get a piece of mail I done been down with ni**as who got thirty in Say when he get out, he doin' dirt again My ni**a from Ohio robbed a bank, they gave him thirty years He been in jail since the nineties, he don't even know his kids We gon' get rich or die tryin', all we know is win If this rap sh*t gon' fall through, I'm sellin' dope again Auntie had stopped gettin' high, now she smoke again But who am I to judge? sh*t, I'm back sippin' fours again Webb FaceTimed me, said he went back to the O again They caught brodie with a nine-piece, here we go again I just met up with the lawyer, had to give him ten He on his third strike, we might never see his ass again Real sh*t, it ain't all good, but it ain't all bad I just counted up a half a million, ni**a, all cash Seen his name in some paperwork, I had to fall back They had me down to my last ten, I had to crawl back You ain't talkin' 'bout no fu*kin' money, ni**a call back You know you ain't welcome in my hood without no hall pass Missed a call from an Instagram model, ain't even call back 'Cause I don't put pussy over paper, not at all, jack Flyin' first class with no luggage, where the mall at? 'Cause rich ni**as shop when they land, I got tall racks I'll fu*k a ni**a b*tch in his bed, I'm with all that If I ain't a Ghetto Boy, then what you call that? Rubber band Audemars Piguet, it match the dog tag Mansion out in Rochester Hills, far from y'all ass And brung a pint with no seal, man, it's all bad I don't know where you got this sh*t from, but take it all back Man, my b*tch so bad, she need her ass whooped And we know you pussy, ni**a, you'll get your bag took Last ni**a ran off with some sh*t, we had to tie him up Last ni**a tried to play me like a ho, I got him fired up I'll spend a hundred racks today, don't get me fired up I'm a rich ni**a, I don't count money, I weigh mines up Apple got life 'cause they picked him out the lineup But he gave that sh*t back, see you in five months Finna pop another Perc 30, I ain't high enough This sh*t ain't dark enough, fu*k it, pour another line up You know I ain't get it overnight, I had to climb up Baby say she want a new Chanel, I'm finna buy her one You ain't ride for the gang, ni**a, fu*k y'all You ain't screamin' Ghetto Boyz, ni**a, fu*k y'all Cartier bracelets on my wrist, they took the cuffs off Same color watch and chain, that's a buck, dog I take care of lil' baby, she know how to keep a secret I take care of all my ni**as, they take care of all they people You know money, that's the root to all evil But we ain't never trippin' on sh*t, we all demons, ni**a