Текст Yung Mal – Same Nigga

June, you’re a genius
Huh

I’m the same lil’ dusty lil’ feet nigga came from that Candler, they can’t even believe it (On God)
Gucci had dropped off them racks, and I got off my back and this shit ain’t no secret, nigga

Break it down, speed it up, hold up, woah
Ride in the back, got my feet up
Hold up, heard these niggas mad that we up
Nigga drop a dot, we can meet up (What?)
I’m that same young nigga from Candler
I come from that mantel, don’t get it confused (On God)
Come to East, we get shot out your shoes (Fire)
We the new Death Row, bitch, I’m Snoop (Hah)
We spinnin’ your block like a hula hoop (Hmm)
We turn your shit to Ragu (Ooh)
Bitch, I got money like Jew (Cash)
Get the backend, on the money, go ‘choo (Racks)
I made that chopper go hoo
Two bands spent on my shoe

I’m the same lil’ dusty lil’ feet nigga came from that Candler, they can’t even believe it (On God)
Gucci had dropped off them racks, and I got off my back and this shit ain’t no secret, nigga
Uh, came from them Regals
Now I ride Rolls Royce and Lamborghinis
Huh, fuck the subpoena
Fuck to your honor, I got my lawyer speakin’
Up all night, don’t get no sleep, I be geekin’
She said, «Record this shit,» she freakin’ (Nasty)
Pockets filled with them Franklins, Aretha
Yeah, Iceburg colder than freezer, huh
Racks on me and I got Visa, yeah
I whip it out, she gon’ eat up
Car too fast, keep up
These niggas, they broke and they mad we up

These niggas broke and they mad (They mad)
Get off your ass, shit sad (Shit sad)
I gotta get me a bag (A bag)
I gotta keep me a bag
Good on my face, they put shit on my tab
Young nigga slept in the trash
Now I got bags to fill up a trashcan (On God)
Hood left me scarred, I got scabs
When the shit gettin’ hard, I just stack that shit tall like giraffe
Wrist water, that shit took a bath
No, I didn’t follow, I made my own path
Add this shit up like a math
Same lil’ nigga put the hood on the map
Sold out show but we still gotta trap
We gettin’ all of the money, this shit not fair
Think we goin’ broke, nigga must be on meth
Bitch, we goin’ up in the air

I’m the same lil’ dusty lil’ feet nigga came from that Candler, they can’t even believe it (On God)
Gucci had dropped off them racks, and I got off my back and this shit ain’t no secret, nigga
Uh, came from them Regals
Now I ride Rolls Royce and Lamborghinis
Huh, fuck the subpoena
Fuck to your honor, I got my lawyer speakin’
Up all night, don’t get no sleep, I be geekin’
She said, «Record this shit,» she freakin’ (Nasty)
Pockets filled with them Franklins, Aretha
Yeah, Iceburg colder than freezer, huh
Racks on me and I got Visa, yeah
I whip it out, she gon’ eat up
Car too fast, keep up
These niggas, they broke and they mad we up