Kodak Black, Future - Conscience lyrics
Kodak Black [Dieuson Octave] Pompano Beach, Florida, U.S
Future [Nayvadius DeMun Wilburn] Atlanta, Georgia, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Kodak Black, Future - Conscience lyrics]
Yeah, Project Baby
These streets took my conscience glee
Sniper Gang these streets took my conscience
Yeah, everybody with me on that same thang
I don't gang bang but I bang bang
I pull up to the club, I got on eight chains
Took that bitch to Wings-N Things
She wanted to be my main
Brown liquor made my dawg insane
Booted up or geeked, it's the same thang
Fish scale or molly, it's the same name
Murder by the stains, which gang you claim?
The big Patek face cost ten chains
Took your bitch out to eat on a private plane
Real talk, 150 when it's plain Jane
Fucked that junkie behind the
Dumpster for some cocaine
Ayy, free my nigga Cool, he in the chain gang
Chris Johnson
I swear for God I drop the twenty-eight
I told my nigga be smooth
(cool) , he put a potato on a barrel
I kicked her dumbass out my crib
Say she want Chanel
I bought that bitch a lace 'cause
She ain't got no hair
I sent that poor ass hoe a Uber
'cause she ain't got no wheels
Thirty golds in my mouth
Like I'm Stephen Curry
Thirty clip in my Glock 'cause
I'm a damn Warrior
Streets left me scarred, ain't no worries
Run my money up in a hurry
Thirteen strippers, James Harden
Money make you greedy when you starving
Monisha, Tamica, they vouching
Before I had anything, I was saucy
Before I had that Bentley truck, I was saucy
All these hitters, yeah
I pray you never cross them
She say she pregnant
I swear I think I wanna off her
Eighteen hunded
I got more stories than a author
I'm credit card swipin' at the Chase Bank
(ey) me and Future gang gang, same thang
I check your temperature, nigga
Is you hot or cold? Like a state trooper
I make my money on the road
I remember hittin' houses, nigga
Cash 4 gold
These streets made me lose my conscience
Took a nigga soul
These streets took all my soul from me
Tried to leave me in the cold
These streets took my conscience from me
Now tough love is all I show
I know my niggas got love for me
And they filling up they nose
I know my lil bitch got love for me
She just want everybody to know
I know my niggas, they be missin' me
So I be posted on the stroll
I don't even care about how much cash I see
I'm always gon' be in the 'No
I ran out of money, then they switch lanes
I ran it back up, then I switch lanes
In a brand new Range
Diamond colored candy cane
I bought a brand new K
I can't wait to let it spray
I'm sorry mom ain't mean to bring
You through so much pain
I said I'm sorry mom
I ain't mean for it to be this way
Ayy but fuck it, bitch, I'm here
I got diamond rings
All the finer things, designer jeans
I'm gettin' paid
These streets took my conscience
All the finer things, designer jeans
I'm getting paid
These streets took my conscience
All the finer things, designer jeans
I'm getting paid
All the finer things, designer jeans
I'm getting paid
All the finer things, designer jeans
I'm getting paid
These streets took my conscience glee
Sniper Gang these streets took my conscience
Yeah, everybody with me on that same thang
I don't gang bang but I bang bang
I pull up to the club, I got on eight chains
Took that bitch to Wings-N Things
She wanted to be my main
Brown liquor made my dawg insane
Booted up or geeked, it's the same thang
Fish scale or molly, it's the same name
Murder by the stains, which gang you claim?
The big Patek face cost ten chains
Took your bitch out to eat on a private plane
Real talk, 150 when it's plain Jane
Fucked that junkie behind the
Dumpster for some cocaine
Ayy, free my nigga Cool, he in the chain gang
Chris Johnson
I swear for God I drop the twenty-eight
I told my nigga be smooth
(cool) , he put a potato on a barrel
I kicked her dumbass out my crib
Say she want Chanel
I bought that bitch a lace 'cause
She ain't got no hair
I sent that poor ass hoe a Uber
'cause she ain't got no wheels
Thirty golds in my mouth
Like I'm Stephen Curry
Thirty clip in my Glock 'cause
I'm a damn Warrior
Streets left me scarred, ain't no worries
Run my money up in a hurry
Thirteen strippers, James Harden
Money make you greedy when you starving
Monisha, Tamica, they vouching
Before I had anything, I was saucy
Before I had that Bentley truck, I was saucy
All these hitters, yeah
I pray you never cross them
She say she pregnant
I swear I think I wanna off her
Eighteen hunded
I got more stories than a author
I'm credit card swipin' at the Chase Bank
(ey) me and Future gang gang, same thang
I check your temperature, nigga
Is you hot or cold? Like a state trooper
I make my money on the road
I remember hittin' houses, nigga
Cash 4 gold
These streets made me lose my conscience
Took a nigga soul
These streets took all my soul from me
Tried to leave me in the cold
These streets took my conscience from me
Now tough love is all I show
I know my niggas got love for me
And they filling up they nose
I know my lil bitch got love for me
She just want everybody to know
I know my niggas, they be missin' me
So I be posted on the stroll
I don't even care about how much cash I see
I'm always gon' be in the 'No
I ran out of money, then they switch lanes
I ran it back up, then I switch lanes
In a brand new Range
Diamond colored candy cane
I bought a brand new K
I can't wait to let it spray
I'm sorry mom ain't mean to bring
You through so much pain
I said I'm sorry mom
I ain't mean for it to be this way
Ayy but fuck it, bitch, I'm here
I got diamond rings
All the finer things, designer jeans
I'm gettin' paid
These streets took my conscience
All the finer things, designer jeans
I'm getting paid
These streets took my conscience
All the finer things, designer jeans
I'm getting paid
All the finer things, designer jeans
I'm getting paid
All the finer things, designer jeans
I'm getting paid