The Author

(альбом: Rich As In Spirit - 2018)

The average person like Nard & B gon think this shit I'm talking bout made up or make believe or some shit, but nah man, this my everyday life dawg
Trenchwerk

I got some stories I'm telling but they not made up
Don't try to dap me just spare me don't want that fake love
At ten ain't know 'bout no rollie wanted a Jacob
So when I tell you this story know they not made up
Keep on my chain when I fuck her bae yeah we made love
It took eight months and couple weeks just to save up
I told my mama go get it because she know I got it
Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it

We just extra flexing (yeah) hundred racks on a necklace (ohh)
First time I got booked in Houston sold out show in Texas (sold out showing)
I couldn't make no money off this at first this shit was stressful (at first it was)
I was in these niggas face with my CD just like a freckle (aye)
I was prolly leaving the studio when they was on they way to breakfast
When they was prolly going to sleep I was still up I was going extra
Right before the new Walmart I was still on Gresham
I told myself never fall off Quan you gotta do better
I do this shit in real life nigga no make believe (no, no)
I was broke as hell growing up now fifty what I make week (yeah, yeah)
Rich in spirit that the way to be (rich homie baby)
These niggas cotton and I'm harder than 'em (that right too)
It's copywritten cause I wrote it I'm the author nigga

I got some stories I'm telling but they not made up
Don't try to dap me just spare me don't want that fake love
At ten ain't no 'bout no rollie wanted a Jacob
So when I tell you these stories know they not made up
Keep on my chain when I fuck her bae ya we made love
It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up
I told my mama go get it because she know I got it
Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it

At the strip club we at [?]
Fifty thousand on my bracelet
Eight months I was saving
I swear we [?]
Tryna out ball my paper yeah
Real life story not made up (nah)
In high school fucking hoes by Stephenson out by Decatur (fuck them hoes)
Smoking by the cafeteria back near the gyms
Smoking mid throwing out the seeds and spitting out the stems (spitting out the stems)
Niggas tried to count me down so I had to bend the rim (I bent my act)
I remember mama house recording no engineer (hey, hey)
Remember when grandmama died it hurt couldn't shed a tear
I swear I saw my mama cry didn't know there'll be better years (I love you mama)
I try to put away my pride no middle face all my fears (nah real talk man)
We need a plate don't try to starve us
Can't make this up when you the author (rich homie baby)

I got some stories I'm telling but they not made up
Don't try to dap me just spare me don't want that fake love
At ten ain't no 'bout no rollie wanted a Jacob
So when I tell you these stories know they not made up
Keep on my chain when I fuck her bae ya we made love
It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up
I told my mama go get it because she know I got it
Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it

Trenchwerk