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Friday (prod. by Jonathan "J.R." Rotem)

[Chorus:]

Damn my P.O. I ain't gon' stop grindin'

Violate me if ya want gon' have to come find me

Lookin' for me in the streets I'm somewhere shinin'

Live every goddamn day like it's Friday

Damn my P.O. I ain't gon' stop grindin'

Violate me if ya want gon' have to come find me

Lookin' for me in the streets I'm somewhere shinin'

Live every goddamn day like it's FridayTell the feds if they comin' they better come now

They got my chips straight now I'm ready to retire

I ball 'til I fall homie thug 'til I die

And if I died today I know I'll probably fry

But if I hit the right lick I can live nice

Think I'm scared to go get it you goddamn lie

My money go to lookin' funny I'm gettin' on seventy-five

Non-stop homie straight to the Cuban's island

I like to get money, fuck hoes, and rock ice

Give a damn who don't like it, it's my life

That's why I drank e'eryday dog and stay high

Catch me in the strip club lettin' money fly

And goin' broke the only thing that can make me cry

I told my P.O. she can't change me don't even try

The street life got me gone I don't know why

Tryna at least see a couple mill' 'fore I die[Chorus]Before I went to sleep I prayed for a hundred squares

Told God he'll bless me if He really cared

Know you fuck niggas prayin' for me to get killed

Know you crackers wish you could give me a hundred years

That's why I ball and stunt for the niggas in jail

Cracker gon' have to kill me 'fore they put me in a cell

Nigga told me to turn myself in I told him "go to Hell"

Cause if they want me they better do they job and that's real

Worst thang they can do is hold me with no bail

Until that shit happen been done ran across a whole mill'

I thug it out 'til the end homie that's how it is

Life too motherfuckin' short for me to sit still

I can't leave these streets nigga they pay my bills

I gotta be dead in prison nigga for me to chill

I asked a trick the other day why he pop pills

He told me I'll pop 'em too if I knew how it feel[Chorus]I wake up e'ery mornin' lookin' for a money bag

When a nigga died and he was broke then he died sad

If I was on my dick you niggas'll be glad

Squeeze eights on the donk just to make you mad

Long as my heart still beatin' nigga I'mma get cash

Live every motherfuckin' day like it's my last

Indictment money in my pocket and 'Gnac in my system

Need every muthafuckin' day like Christmas

Heared the crackers downtown givin' out big numbers

I know some muthafuckin' haitians givin' out triple.[Chorus]

Songwriters

ROTEM, JONATHAN / WASHINGTON, ALGERNODPublished by

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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