Paroles de la chanson Recollections of Fame! par Autumn!

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Paroles de la chanson Recollections of Fame! par Autumn!

Woah, woah, woah (Woah, woah, woah)

This not a regular Jeep (No)
You think I'm a regular star? (No)
This one a SRT (Yeah)
Man, somebody done died in this car (Yeah)
Police, they lookin' for me?
I'm in Houston, I ain't going too far
Tryna catch me, bitch, it's beat
Put Balenciaga on my feet
Rock Balenciaga just to sleep
TLC on this block, I'ma creep
Let's see if that bitch really sleep
Put a drum and a switch on the G
Put a sixty-three behind the Jeep
And she know how I'm moving, be deep

So you know all my brothers with me

In a E-31, it's a sleeper (Yeah)
She keep askin' if this a Ferrari
Could've lied, but I said it's a Bimmer
Got your bitch in the back, she a eater
Hand it to her, she got a good thinker
Used to think I was gon' go to Harvard (Woah)
Used to think I was gon' have a daughter (Woah)
Used to think everybody keep secrets (Woah)
Used to always be nice, now I'm meaner (No)
I can't fuck with these niggas, I mean it
Way they treat you, you wouldn't believe it
I still listen, the reason I'm smarter
Love my pops, used to give me the game
He the reason I know to go harder
Got a brother I miss every day
He the reason I rhyme when I'm talkin'

I'ma settle, you speak on his name
I can't wait 'til my son meet your daughter
I just sit back and write when I think (Yeah)
Wanna be just like Durango Carter (Yeah)
If you listen, you picture the pain
If you listen, you'll hear when it rain
Time to go sand white for the paint
Got a Jeep, but our shit ain't the same
He got money, but he still a lame
I just spent his whole check on some Lang
He got everything, he still complain
He seen death, he still think it's a game
He throw up shit he don't even claim
She love me, but she don't know my name
Feel like I got accustomed to fame
"Why you spend seventeen on a chain?"
Another twenty you spent on the Carti'
Could've put that shit down on a 'Rari

In your twenties, why you need a 'Rari?
If I die in it, I hope somebody
Call Trina and tell her I'm sorry
She know her baby boy got that money
And I can't help but spend it on cars
Still got niggas locked behind them bars

(Still got niggas locked behind them bars)
Still got niggas locked behind them bars
Free my niggas locked behind them bars
(Woah, woah, woah)

This not a regular Jeep (No)
You think I'm a regular star? (No)
This one a SRT (Yeah)
Man, somebody done died in this car (Yeah)
Police, they lookin' for me?
I'm in Houston, I ain't going too far

Tryna catch me, bitch, it's beat
Put Balenciaga on my feet
Rock Balenciaga just to sleep
TLC on this block, I'ma creep
Let's see if that bitch really sleep
Put a drum and a switch on the G
Put a sixty-three behind the Jeep
And she know how I'm moving, be deep
So you know all my brothers with me

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