Similar Songs
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Peezy
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Phillip Glen-Earl Peaks
Songwriter
Lyrics
30 bands e'ry week
I need 30 bands e'ry week
30 bands e'ry week
Bad bitch ridin' with me
Yeah, she on fleek
Bitch say they get the chills when they hear me speak
If it's in God's will, my whole team gon' eat
Gave my **** life 'cause he refused to speak
Told 'em "Fuck you, lock me up and throw away the key"
I get on these track and let my soul bleed
My family need some money e'rytime my phone ring
Refuse to take a handout, I need my own cheese
(Just 'cause it feels good)
I'll take care of my lil' brother and my OG
On the outside lookin' in, **** think I made it
I put on all this fucking jewelry just for entertainment
One slip is up, it's back to the basics
If this rap shit don't work, I'll sell a brick and eighth this
Landlord want his rent money, had to make the payment
Might shoot a **** whole head off, all this built up anger
Fuck **** can't do the time, so they making statements
Just got a check for thirteen hundred, bought a banger
Done gave **** my last money, they didn't even say "Thank you"
I done hit the road with my last money and I ain't even make it
Tryin' to stay my ass out the courtrooms, 'cause them people's racist
Young black **** with a dream, they don't wanna see me make it
When you bounce back from a major L, you should see they faces
And it'd be your own family, that's the shit that's crazy
I relate to them hard times, that's the shit that made me
But we ain't never going back to that, put it on my baby
E'ry other day, I'm going through with it with my old lady
I've seen **** get thirty years tryin' ride Mercedes
Life in the fast lane, gotta slow it down, be patient
Young rich ****, without a deal, I ain't need the label
Heard they wanna take me out the game, I've been eatin' lately
Tell me what to bring to the table, I'll feed the table
God forgives, I don't, I'ma let Jesus save 'em
All I ask of you fuck **** is just keep it gangsta
**** dying e'rytime you watch the news or you read the papers
So we buyin' all these brand new tools that don't got no safety
On the grind in the same clothes, I ain't even change 'em
Just put a dub in my shoe box, add it to my savings
I need 30 bands e'ry week
I don't even touch the work ****, I'm handsfree
Now I get paid just to speak
They don't believe it 'til they see
Five hundred oranges all in Tennessee
Turn around, four thousand Benz out in the V
Do the speed limit, ride the middle lane ****, shit ain't sweet
When the people's catch you on 75, it might be O-V
Came up from the bottom, now I'm at the T-O-P
And I ain't finna sayin' one word to the C-O-Ps
Cuz call me from Southwest, he need three more Ps
I done finally made a way for us, thank G-O-D
I need 30 bands e'ry week
I ain't come on to your bitch, she came on to me
My ****, there's sometime to cut my whole cheese
Five diamonds chains on, you bitches know it's me
30 bands e'ry week
I need 30 bands e'ry week
30 bands e'ry week
Bad bitch ridin' with me
Yeah, she on fleek
30 bands e'ry week
I need 30 bands e'ry week
30 bands e'ry week
Bad bitch ridin' with me
Yeah, she on fleek
(Oh, ah-ah-ah-oh-oh-oh-oh)
(Just 'cause it feels good)
Written by: Phillip Glen-Earl Peaks