"PAID" lyrics
Yeah, yeah, I don't give a fuck, yeah
And it feels so good
I don't give a fuck, yeah
I was raised with a wooden spoon
Which felt denser than silver
Its contents were hot
Through caring hands delivered
I'm grateful and paid in full
I love you, Mitch
But it's time I go on my own
Hey, ah, uh
Hey
Whoa
Look, I ain't no little dude
I ain't no punk
I ain't no child
Gettin' ridiculed by swimming pools like
"Fools, I ain't gon' jump"
Nah, I split your crew like syllables
When an imbecile read a word that's a little too difficult
For his mental state
Kung Lao with the finish move
Double the principal off the interest rate
Mmm, that's the power of potential
That's the power I shower on instrumentals
Mo' money, mo' problems, I'm so sorry
I don't subscribe by it, let me find out myself
Mot till I'm post mortem
Wrote 'bout it
Locker room shame I ain't changin' for nobody
You know 'bout it, you nobody
Hmm, hey, and it's our season
Saucy got me blowin' trees and all the above
I was raised with a wooden spoon
Which felt denser than silver
Its contents were hot
Through caring hands delivered
I'm grateful and paid in full
I love you, Mitch
But it's time I go
I feel sorry for boys
Actin' rich, but they're poor
Buyin' bottles at clubs
But they sleep on the floor
It's the things we were taught
He be singin' along
How he got a Bugatti
But he can't afford a Ford?
Or get behind a Honda
Get your life in Accord
Introduced since the cradle
Don't be stuck till the morgue
Now I'm killin' 'em all
With a red dot
Soon as Nate Smith hit record
It's a head shot
Pop, pop, pop, my Lord
Bring it on, bring it on
Oh, mi cherie amor
She jumpin' for joy
Her True Religion is Christian Dior
And Louboutin, either or
We settlin' scores
We ain't lookin' for war
We just lookin' to even the score
Step inside a court like
"Yeah, bitch, I'm here, nigga
Here's fifty to clear, I share with you
I gotcha, I'm sure you're gonna share with us"
Hmm, I sound off to the sound of counterclockwise
Mmm, to the houses where we got the dress in gold, black
Huh, I got 'em bouncin' to the beat, make your baby drop down
Hmm
I was raised with a wooden spoon
Which felt denser than silver
Its contents were hot
Through caring hands delivered
I'm grateful and paid in full
I love you, Mitch
But it's time I go on my own too
And it feels so good
I don't give a fuck, yeah
I was raised with a wooden spoon
Which felt denser than silver
Its contents were hot
Through caring hands delivered
I'm grateful and paid in full
I love you, Mitch
But it's time I go on my own
Hey, ah, uh
Hey
Whoa
Look, I ain't no little dude
I ain't no punk
I ain't no child
Gettin' ridiculed by swimming pools like
"Fools, I ain't gon' jump"
Nah, I split your crew like syllables
When an imbecile read a word that's a little too difficult
For his mental state
Kung Lao with the finish move
Double the principal off the interest rate
Mmm, that's the power of potential
That's the power I shower on instrumentals
Mo' money, mo' problems, I'm so sorry
I don't subscribe by it, let me find out myself
Mot till I'm post mortem
Wrote 'bout it
Locker room shame I ain't changin' for nobody
You know 'bout it, you nobody
Hmm, hey, and it's our season
Saucy got me blowin' trees and all the above
I was raised with a wooden spoon
Which felt denser than silver
Its contents were hot
Through caring hands delivered
I'm grateful and paid in full
I love you, Mitch
But it's time I go
I feel sorry for boys
Actin' rich, but they're poor
Buyin' bottles at clubs
But they sleep on the floor
It's the things we were taught
He be singin' along
How he got a Bugatti
But he can't afford a Ford?
Or get behind a Honda
Get your life in Accord
Introduced since the cradle
Don't be stuck till the morgue
Now I'm killin' 'em all
With a red dot
Soon as Nate Smith hit record
It's a head shot
Pop, pop, pop, my Lord
Bring it on, bring it on
Oh, mi cherie amor
She jumpin' for joy
Her True Religion is Christian Dior
And Louboutin, either or
We settlin' scores
We ain't lookin' for war
We just lookin' to even the score
Step inside a court like
"Yeah, bitch, I'm here, nigga
Here's fifty to clear, I share with you
I gotcha, I'm sure you're gonna share with us"
Hmm, I sound off to the sound of counterclockwise
Mmm, to the houses where we got the dress in gold, black
Huh, I got 'em bouncin' to the beat, make your baby drop down
Hmm
I was raised with a wooden spoon
Which felt denser than silver
Its contents were hot
Through caring hands delivered
I'm grateful and paid in full
I love you, Mitch
But it's time I go on my own too
