Текст песни Paperboys - Jaeti

The sun rise
The rain wash
Shower his pain points
Spit out the fake fronts
Dream of the lake front
He know the days long
The city we came from
Too much game gone
Still saying the same stuff
This ain't a hold up
But ya'll need to hold up
It's like roll call
Whenever we roll up
The police show up
Girls jumpin' double-Dutch
Jay got Double Barrel
Jaeti got the double pump
Money ain't fast enough
The Klan say the police don't kill enough
We don't build enough
I'm building up to my point
It's all coincidental
How you spit bars for free
But paying for the instrumentals

Up early
Way late
Sun, snow, on a birthday
Birthed into the jungle baby
Down the street from the candy lady
Candy paint
With Netflix
Ten speakers and four amps
Wood grain and leather
Built in TV
Get cable channels
Want a name
But don't want attention
In the game
With no substitution
Can't lose
Can't win
Same cycle
No evolution
Get the green
It's all work
Hustle hard in a t-shirt
Repurposed
For this purpose
Hunger pains
And his feet hurt
Tennis shoes
Like Hill Street Blues
Blue and black
He ain't in the mood
Lil' shawties
On their way to school
Look up to him
As they passing through
Look how smooth
Life passing dude
Flex on folks
He's Rick Rude
They just see a couple dollars baby
They don't see what he's going through

Pull up on 'em
Interview
Don't get pumped up
Inner tube
Say three four words then be through
If she don't follow
She ain't into you
If I ain't got a couple stacks
A couple racks
I'm playing pool
Wifey friends in the swimming pool
Call up my guys
And they swimming through
Ain't a continent that ain't been to
If I was you
I'd be like me
I don't need my heat on me
Nobody know you
Everybody know me
I got 100,000 cats that'll speak for me
Put that respect
On my Hancock
Hop on a flight
I'm in Bangkok
Ya'll still twerkin' in same spot
Same car
On the same block
Same corner
With same cops
On the same grind
Til the time stop
Say the wrong thang
And yo time stop
I got the timesheet, timecard
The timekeeper in the press box
Jesus Christ with the dred locks
Nat Turner you get the picture
Can't compare me to these other frauds
Talking bout cars and a bunch of broads
Looking like they just rolled off the couch
If it ain't about paper
What's it all about
Say my name and the lights go out
Hop in my lane it's mad max
You need to renew that bus pass
You ain't in my league
That's mad facts