Hodgy - Cudda Been lyrics
[Hodgy - Cudda Been lyrics]
I'm never sentimental to the instrumental
Smoke presidential, in this rap game
Residential you wanna judge me, ho
Well I'ma need to see credentials
Plain and simple
I'm plannin' on ownin' your expenditures
And all your rentals, I'm feelin' anxiety
Knowin' it's mental
Life's inspired by the sunlight
Shinin' through the window
Fly myself to some shows when
I'm gone in the winter
Home right before Christmas, receive it
All on your wishlist, kiddo
The dad I am makes me wish I
Had one when I was little
Raisin' him, watchin' him grow
The kid I live through
Better to know what you have than
To find what you forgot
And you left more than a scab, bruises
A couple of knots worse than gettin' shot
A boy growin' up without a pops
It's detrimental
The penitentiary countin' down on the clock
Karma's addin' up by the second and
Catchin' the ones in question
The answers I gave directs you
Prayin' that Heaven's blessin' you
Growin' up as a minority
Gettin' rich was my only priority
Can't take the hood out a nigga
It's a part of me
And if you wanna live my life
Then you should martyr me
Chillin' with a chick, Charmane
She drinkin' Chardonnay
I'm smokin' weed while we
Bangin' Tha Carter 3
Pardon me, but you don't want no part of me
I'm a gladiator, bitch, come and spar with me
It's disturbin' when you say
You ain't worth it
If you had a better mindset you
Would be a better person
I believe in you, I know they're just words
Worded it perfect
I keep the herb lit, it grounds me
When disconnected it's earthless
Sex is overrated and privacy's
Up for purchase
They know you can't afford it
Throw it in your face on purpose
Remember what you do it for
When you get some dough
I do it for the paper, bitch you already know
In the band who played the sax and
Wore a tie and a bow
The guy with the fro after practice
Gettin' high for the low
Jheri curl minus the glow
Or have broken bifocals
Couldn't tell the difference between
A dime and ho i thought you was a hustler
Never grinded before
Nah shorty's pumpin' music by the
Mom and pop's store made beats of his own
Wrote poetry to his songs
He kept it from home cause moms would
Throw a heap in the bone
Smoke presidential, in this rap game
Residential you wanna judge me, ho
Well I'ma need to see credentials
Plain and simple
I'm plannin' on ownin' your expenditures
And all your rentals, I'm feelin' anxiety
Knowin' it's mental
Life's inspired by the sunlight
Shinin' through the window
Fly myself to some shows when
I'm gone in the winter
Home right before Christmas, receive it
All on your wishlist, kiddo
The dad I am makes me wish I
Had one when I was little
Raisin' him, watchin' him grow
The kid I live through
Better to know what you have than
To find what you forgot
And you left more than a scab, bruises
A couple of knots worse than gettin' shot
A boy growin' up without a pops
It's detrimental
The penitentiary countin' down on the clock
Karma's addin' up by the second and
Catchin' the ones in question
The answers I gave directs you
Prayin' that Heaven's blessin' you
Growin' up as a minority
Gettin' rich was my only priority
Can't take the hood out a nigga
It's a part of me
And if you wanna live my life
Then you should martyr me
Chillin' with a chick, Charmane
She drinkin' Chardonnay
I'm smokin' weed while we
Bangin' Tha Carter 3
Pardon me, but you don't want no part of me
I'm a gladiator, bitch, come and spar with me
It's disturbin' when you say
You ain't worth it
If you had a better mindset you
Would be a better person
I believe in you, I know they're just words
Worded it perfect
I keep the herb lit, it grounds me
When disconnected it's earthless
Sex is overrated and privacy's
Up for purchase
They know you can't afford it
Throw it in your face on purpose
Remember what you do it for
When you get some dough
I do it for the paper, bitch you already know
In the band who played the sax and
Wore a tie and a bow
The guy with the fro after practice
Gettin' high for the low
Jheri curl minus the glow
Or have broken bifocals
Couldn't tell the difference between
A dime and ho i thought you was a hustler
Never grinded before
Nah shorty's pumpin' music by the
Mom and pop's store made beats of his own
Wrote poetry to his songs
He kept it from home cause moms would
Throw a heap in the bone