"Denise Murrell" lyrics
Ayy, 150 wet but demanding respect
I sign the front and the backs of my checks
With the Curator, we chat at the MET
They can't even tell that I rap, how I dress
I got two-fifty-sum' grams on my neck
Hand on my weapon, I scan for a threat, nigga
Uh
I was in school writin' hood niggas essays for cash
And later, finessin' the bag
Gon' get to Heaven off grandmama prayers alone
Religion a weapon, I'll pass then pad
The pastor pocket, blast the rocket
Mastermind, the mag, I pop it
So they gotta be mad
Gone for too long, so she callin' me, naggin'
Askin' me when I'ma get off that sad shit
Hit for a bag and I call back to laugh
RIMOWA attaché, sticking magnets on it
With the K's, mainly chat in code
If you really hate me, then you wouldn't pay me no attention
Not trippin', cashin' on it
Passionate, Casanova
Way back in the gap, I hoed you
Ashamed, my blick back in the holster
You ain't deserve that, I was growin'
Even back in my lackin' broke years
Niggas wasn't actin' local
Alligator patch and loafers
25 but actin' older (On my momma)
Ayy, 150 wet but commandin' respect
I sign the front and the backs of my checks
With the Curator, we chat at the MET
They can't even tell that I rap, how I dress
I got two-fifty-sum' grams on my neck
Hand on my weapon, I scan for a threat, nigga
Ayy
Made my first million still livin' with mom
She never tripped that I ain't have a job
I robbed before, I just sat up deprived
Nigga tried pokin' me, I copped a rod
Plotted through COVID with that on my mind
Niggas don't even know what I had on the line
I smile, beguile, dying in style
Pile in a crowd, slimin' them out
Silent as mouse, blood on my breath
Quite as kept, I'm aligned with 'em now
I feel like escape is futile
See the same face every few miles
Play the blues, ain't nothin' to brood 'bout
Married to the game with renewed vows
I just
Uh, ayy
150 wet but commandin' respect
I sign the front and the backs of my checks
With the Curator, we chat at the MET
They can't even tell that I rap, how I dress
I got two-fifty-sum' grams on my neck
Hand on my weapon, I scan for a threat, nigga
I sign the front and the backs of my checks
With the Curator, we chat at the MET
They can't even tell that I rap, how I dress
I got two-fifty-sum' grams on my neck
Hand on my weapon, I scan for a threat, nigga
Uh
I was in school writin' hood niggas essays for cash
And later, finessin' the bag
Gon' get to Heaven off grandmama prayers alone
Religion a weapon, I'll pass then pad
The pastor pocket, blast the rocket
Mastermind, the mag, I pop it
So they gotta be mad
Gone for too long, so she callin' me, naggin'
Askin' me when I'ma get off that sad shit
Hit for a bag and I call back to laugh
RIMOWA attaché, sticking magnets on it
With the K's, mainly chat in code
If you really hate me, then you wouldn't pay me no attention
Not trippin', cashin' on it
Passionate, Casanova
Way back in the gap, I hoed you
Ashamed, my blick back in the holster
You ain't deserve that, I was growin'
Even back in my lackin' broke years
Niggas wasn't actin' local
Alligator patch and loafers
25 but actin' older (On my momma)
Ayy, 150 wet but commandin' respect
I sign the front and the backs of my checks
With the Curator, we chat at the MET
They can't even tell that I rap, how I dress
I got two-fifty-sum' grams on my neck
Hand on my weapon, I scan for a threat, nigga
Ayy
Made my first million still livin' with mom
She never tripped that I ain't have a job
I robbed before, I just sat up deprived
Nigga tried pokin' me, I copped a rod
Plotted through COVID with that on my mind
Niggas don't even know what I had on the line
I smile, beguile, dying in style
Pile in a crowd, slimin' them out
Silent as mouse, blood on my breath
Quite as kept, I'm aligned with 'em now
I feel like escape is futile
See the same face every few miles
Play the blues, ain't nothin' to brood 'bout
Married to the game with renewed vows
I just
Uh, ayy
150 wet but commandin' respect
I sign the front and the backs of my checks
With the Curator, we chat at the MET
They can't even tell that I rap, how I dress
I got two-fifty-sum' grams on my neck
Hand on my weapon, I scan for a threat, nigga
Writer(s): Kai Wright, Omavi Minder
