"Late Nights And Early Mornings" lyrics
Dickie shorts, Bally belt, boxer briefs
Bitch, of course this marathon is where you ought to be
Shopping sprees spending thousands on designer jeans
Exotic women, Mercedes Benzes with bucket seats
Pretty feet, pretty hair that blow in the breeze
It's pretty rare that she meet a nigga as real as me
Especially when she fishin' in this music industry
But luckily she fucked around and fucked with me
Surround myself with the finer things
I guess I'm Hollywood 'cause I'm enjoyin' what my grindin' bring
I'm All Money In, dot I-N-C
Minus the major record label, time to rise the fee
On every stage I'm givin' everything inside of me
But she gon' give it back after the show in the Le Montrose suite
My-My-My nigga Rimpee's got a thick freak (What's up?)
Down the hall gettin' crackin' over this beat
We smokin' good, y'all smell the weed
We finally made it to the plane then we fell asleep
The mornin' came, the night leaves
A little of a workaholic, shit, I might be
Up at 6 in the morning like I'm Ice T
Spent the grip on the Malcolm X, Spike Lee
Hope them other rappers never think they like me
On any given day 60 thousand on my white tee
Ain't nothin' much but what them dollars bring
Addicted to the rush of money, wires and depositing
So no I can't fall asleep at the driver's seat
That's why y'all wake up to a kush blunt and a Ralo beat
Hard top, push the button, you don't turn the key
Bulletproof 'cause I know niggas wanna murder me
I never heard of you, I know you heard of me
And that's the part that make your head hurt
It's 5 in the mornin'
And I'm talkin' this thug shit to you (Talk to me and I talk back)
Got it and I want it
Let me run this marathon with you (I got you)
Look
'Cause I got it on deck, baby
I put that on the set, baby
I'm kissin' on yo neck
Yo pussy get wet
And then we have sex, baby
'Cause I got it on deck, baby
I put that on the set, baby
I get to kissing yo neck
Yo pussy get wet
And then we have sex, baby
Ay
You know the hotel get turned up if we in it
Smell the kush soon as you exit the elevators
You hear the music
Bitch, of course this marathon is where you ought to be
Shopping sprees spending thousands on designer jeans
Exotic women, Mercedes Benzes with bucket seats
Pretty feet, pretty hair that blow in the breeze
It's pretty rare that she meet a nigga as real as me
Especially when she fishin' in this music industry
But luckily she fucked around and fucked with me
Surround myself with the finer things
I guess I'm Hollywood 'cause I'm enjoyin' what my grindin' bring
I'm All Money In, dot I-N-C
Minus the major record label, time to rise the fee
On every stage I'm givin' everything inside of me
But she gon' give it back after the show in the Le Montrose suite
My-My-My nigga Rimpee's got a thick freak (What's up?)
Down the hall gettin' crackin' over this beat
We smokin' good, y'all smell the weed
We finally made it to the plane then we fell asleep
The mornin' came, the night leaves
A little of a workaholic, shit, I might be
Up at 6 in the morning like I'm Ice T
Spent the grip on the Malcolm X, Spike Lee
Hope them other rappers never think they like me
On any given day 60 thousand on my white tee
Ain't nothin' much but what them dollars bring
Addicted to the rush of money, wires and depositing
So no I can't fall asleep at the driver's seat
That's why y'all wake up to a kush blunt and a Ralo beat
Hard top, push the button, you don't turn the key
Bulletproof 'cause I know niggas wanna murder me
I never heard of you, I know you heard of me
And that's the part that make your head hurt
It's 5 in the mornin'
And I'm talkin' this thug shit to you (Talk to me and I talk back)
Got it and I want it
Let me run this marathon with you (I got you)
Look
'Cause I got it on deck, baby
I put that on the set, baby
I'm kissin' on yo neck
Yo pussy get wet
And then we have sex, baby
'Cause I got it on deck, baby
I put that on the set, baby
I get to kissing yo neck
Yo pussy get wet
And then we have sex, baby
Ay
You know the hotel get turned up if we in it
Smell the kush soon as you exit the elevators
You hear the music
Writer(s): Marsha Angelique Ambrosius, Richard Christopher Harrison
