Testo Thinking Out Loud - QB Blurry
Testo della canzone Thinking Out Loud (QB Blurry), tratta dall'album 8:16
Thinkin' to myself like why I gotta do to make it out
Thinkin' bout the paper, really nothin' else to think about
Screamin' fuck a hater, I'll never know what they hate about
I'm knowin' there's some niggas just prayin', I never make it out
Fuck it, I told myself be patient, pop out with paper
Ain't focused on no bitchin' relations, can't do no favors
I'm focused on the house with the acres without the neighbors
Red I.N.T. the label, we tryin' to do somethin' major
Ain't thinkin' nothin' but paper since I was a lil' baby
That broke shit made me sick, need four pockets full like LaBaba
Bro, I run with the stick all in traffic, we actin' crazy
But really, we do the daily, jumped off the porch late, I'm lazy
Thinkin' to myself like why I gotta do to make it out
Thinkin' bout the paper, really nothin' else to think about
Thinkin' to myself like why I gotta do to make it out
Thinkin' bout the paper, really
So fuck it, grab the mask and the cutters
We gon' catch him, I'm bluffin', they'll never see us comin'
How them thoughts they be runnin' when you done ran out of money?
Overthinkin', steady tellin' yourself, don't be a dumbin'
Residual is critical, it's always gon' keep you comin'
Different levels never know how far they'll go for the money
Stealin' niggas with opinions who ain't never denyin'
On the book, just makin' posts, guess if they drop, they be funny
I think it's funny, like your mouth, how would you get to runnin'?
Where your street shit, where your crib? Can you say you done it?
How you gon' judge another nigga off how he gon' make money?
They try to stop your racks, how bout I show them just how you comin'?
Blur, thinkin' to myself like why I gotta do to make it out
Thinkin' bout the paper, really nothin' else to think about
Thinkin' to myself like why I gotta do to make it out
Thinkin' bout the paper, really nothin' else
I'm just thinkin' bout the paper and how a nigga gon' make it out
Different type of saver, I don't really fuck with the bank account
Different type of flavors, they meet me down by the roundabout
Got tired of bein' no mama, caught doin' shit I ain't thought about
We never been lazy, I guess it is just not findin' out
One expensive shit, I can't pronounce it, I sign it out
Got expensive drip, I'm tired of Nike, I want Louis now
When I start lookin' moody, y'all don't ask me how I'm doing, huh
Credits
Writer(s): Stephon Mitchell
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