Lyrics Dave East – I Don’t Understand It
Text:
R.I.P. Freaky
R.I.P. Mugga
We gon’ do it for y’all
I don’t understand these niggas Holiday Season
I don’t understand it
Niggas looking at me like I’m from another planet
This ain’t happen overnight, this is how I planned it
I just want to fuck ain’t got no time to be romantic
Nine’s inside the truck, .45’s inside the Phantom
Grams had the smoker’s two steppin’ we was jammin’
We’d of shot ’em broad day, it wasn’t for these cameras
Nobody gave me shit, feel a type of way when they comparing
I’m nothing like these niggas, see him with they bitch, she staring
I got a little chick run in Saks Fifth, her name is Karen
I gotta put these shades on in the club these diamonds glaring
We all got guns who do you think you scaring
If Mac in the rarri, Shooter gotta do the Mclaren
Paid 1100 cash just so the bottom’s red
Jew told me bloody gaining weight, hope he get out the feds
Cut your hair, gonna be hard to recognise you without your dreads
Clientele slow with the pound, here go an ounce instead
Home invasions, homie over any amount of bread
Flip the fish tank, shoot the dog, make sure the house is dead
I’ma flight risk, no ankle monitor, I prolly fled
Claim you got the work with no job, same shit that Tommy said
I don’t understand it, before I ever got booked for any show, I was scammin’
We was Wildin’ Out way before I met Nick Cannon
End up dead was boiling eggs in the morning, I was scrambling
I got chased for my biggie, my cousin got shot for his Vanson
When I was dead broke, none of these bitches called me handsome
Couldn’t sleep in the projects, now I sleep up in a mansion
Throwing parties in the Hamptons, all these sticks think we camping
I’m serious as cancer, bartenders too boujee, I slid off with the dancers
Strippers, I’m in LA, they treat me like a Clipper
Laker, she fuck my Gucci up with all that makeup
Jacob would have been my jeweler during the Meech era (free Meech)
These Cartiers help me see better, rep three letters (HMV)
I want my niggas all in ice until we need sweaters
My whole gang gon’ flip your wifey if she let us
These diamonds on me, I got carets, I need lettuce
I’m sending pictures, I write my niggas, they need letters
You a op or a fiend, these Xans help be sleep better
They wonder why I’m always in LA, cause Cali weed better
I don’t jack son, I really had a thing for Janet
Talking all that tough shit, come around them niggas panic
Watch how I dap niggas, cause I used to hand to hand it
Got caught with a hammer and they kicked me off the campus
I don’t understand it
Niggas looking at me like I’m from a different planet
This ain’t happen overnight, this is how I planned it
I just want to fuck ain’t got no time to be romantic
Nine’s inside the truck, .45’s inside the Phantom
Grams had the smoker’s two step and we was jammin’
We’d of shot ’em broad day, it wasn’t for these cameras
Nobody gave me shit, feel a type of way when they comparing
I’m nothing like these niggas, see him with they bitch, she staring
I got a lil chick run in Saks Fifth, her name is Karen
I gotta put these shades on in the club, these diamonds glarin’
We all got guns, tell me who you think you scarin’
If Mac in the Rarri, Shooter gotta do the McLaren
Album
Dave East – Dave East - Karma 2
