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Bryson Tiller – Self-Made

Woo, yeah, yeah, yeah
You already know
Young Tiller
Let’s go
Gucci on my belt, bought a necklace for myself
Bought Giuseppe for myself, spent them blessings on myself
Donatello, that’s a killer, I smoke purple out the shelf
She want Birkin, she want, Gucci purse, she want Chanel, got it
I spend that ’cause I earned it for myself
Got my shawty out the way and now I’m splurging on myself
You should worry ’bout yourself, I’ve been working on myself
I’ve been balling like I’m Curry, need a jersey for myself (I need a jersey for myself)
What’s next? I’m nervous for myself
If I changed, I became a better version of myself
Bought a chain, bought two more, yeah, I deserve that for myself
And my neighbors look at me like, "How he purchase that himself?"
‘Cause I’m a seven figure, self-made nigga
Blow the money, get it back the next day nigga (made it back, yeah)
Wow, what the check say, nigga?
I’m getting paid, nigga, need a chef and maid, nigga
And a Gucci on my belt, bought a necklace for myself
Bought Giuseppe for myself, spent them blessings on myself
Donatello, that’s a killer, I smoke purple out the shelf
She want Birkin, she want, Gucci purse, she want Chanel, got it
Must’ve heard a hundred niggas say they made me (I made that nigga!)
So, which one you niggas made me?
Don’t know who you talking to, not me, oh no, you can’t be
They wan’ be my fam, but my crew is sucker-lame free (Lame free)
I just want a yacht and a jet-ski
Pull up on your block, Icy Hot, Wayne Gretzkey (I pull up, pull up)
Fucking con artist, boy, you sketchy
Pretty but she messy, only wanna sex me
‘Cause I’m a Seven figure, self-made nigga
Blow the money, get it back the next day nigga (made it back, yeah)
Wow, what the check say, nigga?
I’m getting paid, nigga, need a chef and maid, nigga
Count that mula with my thumb
502, that’s where I’m from
Used to stay on Hazelwood
You see trouble then you run (Run)
Word to Joker Noble, we don’t do this shit for fun
100 million, then I’m done
Poochie laid out in the sun
Like I want
Gucci on my belt, bought a necklace for myself
Bought Giuseppe for myself, spent them blessings on myself
Donatello, that’s a killer, I smoke purple out the shelf
She want Birkin, she want, Gucci purse, she want Chanel, got it
Yeah, yeah, Gucci on my belt
Yeah, she want Gucci on her belt
Gucci on her purse
Gucci on that
Yeah

Categories
Lyrics

Bryson Tiller – Blowing Smoke (True To Self Album)

Ayy
It’s 7AM in the morning, I been up since 3
Fuck it, I’ma keep going
Yeah
Young Pen Griffey
I go to, I go to bat for my niggas
The pun was intended, nigga
Wow, look how I’m livin’, nigga
Angels say watch how you spendin’, nigga
Devil say cop a new Bentley, nigga
Might as well, quick as you get it, nigga
Made a prediction, nigga
Fortune teller, nigga
Ayy, I got it, yeah, I get it, nigga
You a rappin’ contradiction, nigga
Hunnid racks on a sticker
New whip and I’m in it with her
Set it off, this a stick up
‘Til I came to shake shit up
Shakin’ that shit up
Then I go put another check in the bank, nigga
Got a lot up on my plate, nigga
Grandma need a new estate, nigga
You a fraud, you a fake, nigga
Can’t keep up with the pace, nigga
Get the fuck up out the race, nigga
Yeah, pump your brakes, go slow
Pump your brakes, go slow
Just like my shawty, she like it slow
Yeah, and just like her, I heard it all before
Don’t let ’em fool you, they blowing smoke
Yeah, they blowing smoke, yeah
Yeah, I heard it all before
Don’t let ’em lie to you anymore
Hey, don’t let ’em lie to you anymore
Ayy, don’t let ’em fool you, baby
Gene Snyder, get shifty, nigga
Need a lighter for the spliff, nigga
I pull up in a street fighter chain, hit a nigga
Now that I got your attention, nigga
Keep my name off your lips, nigga
Hey, just like her, I don’t take you serious, nigga
No you can’t be serious, nigga
You can’t be serious, nigga
I can’t even hear it, nigga
Gotta be up on my tier, nigga
You ain’t nowhere near, nigga
Young Tiller don’t fear a nigga
Ayy, this no joke, no smoke, no mirrors, nigga
Know you seen me last year, nigga
All at Cleveland Cavaliers, nigga
Thoroughbred, I’m a winner
D’USSE in my cup, I feel like Jigga
Wins got me hittin’ liquor (faded)
And I got you niggas feelin’ bitter (you mad)
Bitch, I been a heavy hitter
But you barely makin’ plays, nigga
Fuck it, let me demonstrate, nigga
Home runnin’, not safe, nigga
Guess I got what it takes, nigga
Can’t keep up with the pace, nigga
Get the fuck up out the race, nigga
Yeah, pump your brakes, go slow
Pump your brakes, go slow
Just like my shawty, she like it slow
Yeah, and just like her, I heard it all before
Don’t let ’em fool you, they blowing smoke
Yeah, they blowing smoke, yeah
Yeah, I heard it all before
Don’t let ’em lie to you anymore
Hey, don’t let ’em lie to you anymore

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Lyrics

Bryson Tiller – Before You Judge (True To Self Album)

Check yourself
Check, check, check
Check, check yourself before you wreck yourself
Chiggity-check, check yourself before you wreck yourself
Ch-ch-check yourself before you wreck yourself
Yeah
Check yourself
Check yourself before you wreck yourself
Before you wreck yourself, check, check, check
Hey, I’m back, so what’s the deal now?
I still don’t give a fuck ’bout how they feel now
I got you hot, lil’ nigga, chill out
Say you coming for the spot? Bitches will spill now (spill niggas)
Either staying in the game, bro
Fuck the niggas waiting on Young Tiller to change up
Niggas waiting on me to run out of paper
I don’t ever speak on niggas, nah, I barely say much
Fuck, I look like, bringing niggas names up?
I can’t let a fuck nigga get famous
These niggas, they wanna de-fame us
They wanna betray us, they wanna play games, oh no, no
Disloyal, this how they won’t portray us
Looked at my dog like, "Fuck it, let’s make ’em hate us"
If you got paid for the attention that you paid us
You would be a rich nigga but you just a bitch nigga
Foreign whip, make you throw a fit, nigga
Foreign bitch, I know you won’t get with her
Lame niggas not the type that she consider
You thinking of speaking with her, boy, you better reconsider
Hey, I’m my daughter’s keeper
And I don’t take with the threats, or promises either, nigga
You gon’ have to see me some day one way or another
And for my blood, bruh, I’m a cold motherfucker (so)
Before you judge me
Check yourself before you judge me
Hey, shit could get ugly
Next time you might not be so lucky
What you want from me?
What these niggas want from me?
This a, "Don’t fuck with me"
Hey, think twice before you fuck with me
What it is yo?
2016, Tiller on this shit, so
Most likely I’ma vent up on this shit, so
Well, um, damn, here it go
You see the shit is so new to me, bro
Not the music, that’s easy, it come smooth to me, bro
When I should’ve been in school, I was making tunes truancy, bro
Low-key, them cool kids weren’t as cool as me, bro
I fell in love and had a mini me, thank you Jesus
Ten fingers, ten toes on her pretty feet, seriously, thank you Jesus
Pray for it every day in them UPS trailers
And you gave her to me like I asked, that’s amazing, Jesus
I know the saying, give them an inch and they take a mile
But Jesus I really need this, I gotta make it out
Studio shit on eBay, I gotta purchase
I told my niggas, "Lend me 600 dollars, it’ll be worth it, let’s cop it" (check, check, check, check)
So many times I second guessed myself, nigga, I never wanted to be an artist, nah (check, check, check, check)
I don’t wanna be the centre of attention but I guess I do this shit for lil’ Harley, nah (check, check, check, check)
If you know me, you know I just want to be able to walk into Target and people not be astonished
Man, let me do my shopping
But this in my job, I asked for it, I got it, let’s go
Just got a new manager, my last one was fucking up my vision
Can’t believe this nigga still tryna get a percentage
I gave you back your investment, get out your feelings
Telling people that the money changed me, nigga, the money saved me
Nigga, money is the reason that you fuck with me, ain’t it?
And even though this shit got me angry, I’mma let God fix it
‘Cause I know if I fix it, my daughter gon’ have to grow up without a father figure
I’ma end up in prison, wishing I never got into this business
It’s nothing personal, I made a business decision
I might have a job for you if you shape or you could fill the position
That’s as real as it gets
And sometimes I don’t know how to deal with this shit
I’ve been searching for the answers in my idol’s music
In his earlier days, man, I know he went through this
He got through this, I’ll get through it
Before you judge me
Check yourself before you judge me
Hey, shit could get ugly
Next time you might not be so lucky
What you want from me?
What these niggas want from me?
This is a, "Don’t fuck with me"
Hey, think twice before you fuck with me
Check yourself
Check, check, check
Check, check yourself before you wreck yourself
Chiggity-check, check yourself before you wreck yourself
Check yourself before you wreck yourself
Yeah
Check, check yourself before you wreck yourself
Before you wreck yourself, check, check, check

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Lyrics

Gucci Mane – Drove U Crazy (feat. Bryson Tille) (The Return Of East Atlanta Santa Album)

[Intro]
It’s Gucci
Tiller!
Brr Brr Brr

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
Pull up in a lamb, it’ll drive you crazy
Had to cut her off cause the bitch too lazy
She wanna ride the wave, but my waves too wavy
And your car too slow, you need to drive Miss Daisy
Jumped out the feds like "Fuck You, pay me"
Got her foaming mouth like the bitch got rabies
Got me running out the spot like the spot got raided
Cause I’m so much different then the nigga you dated
Smiling in the camera like bitch I made it
Big Guwop got the whole club faded
Got a bitch so bad that my ex bitch hate it
Tell me how you feel when you see me skatin’
Nah, you don’t call me baby
We ain’t finna go to the mall Ms. Lady
Standing tall Ms. Lady like can you take it all Ms. Lady
Can you take it off Ms. Lady
Never get a love like this
Never ever ever meet a thug like this
Never met a plug like this
Never seen a nigga in the club like this
Never hug like this
Never pour Ace of Spades in the tub like this
Never got drunk like this
Or beat from the back on the rug like this

[Hook: Bryson Tiller]
What?
Tell ’em how crazy I drove you
Talk about how crazy you drove me
Talk about them favors you owe me
Talk about them
Talk about them lies you told me
Talk about true colors you showed me
Talk about them, what?
Tell ’em how crazy I drove you
Talk about how crazy you drove me
Talk about them favors you owe me
Talk about them
Talk about them lies you told me
Talk about true colors you showed me
Talk about them

[Verse 2: Bryson Tiller]
Aye lil mama say she fuck with me tough yeah
Aye lil mama say she fuck with me tough yeah
Her ex boyfriend’s words cut deep
Aye, Young Tiller in the cut, yeah
Aye, Young Tiller goin’ up, yeah
At your head with it upper cut, yeah
I’m still on the motherfuckin’ come up
But y’all already know where I’m from, yeah
Straight from the 502 hey
Southside Dirty I crew hey
Now they wanna show my moves, hey
Every little thing that I do and say
My old bitch said she need closure
I just think she wanna get closer
I just think she want some exposure
Tell people how crazy I drove her
Tell people all the dreams I sold her
I saw you cannot lean on my shoulder
I already got too many burdens
Most of them bout to give to my attorney
I got too many niggas in my face now
This ain’t the time nor place now
This for my niggas that stay down
Fuck all you niggas that wanna hate now

[Hook: Bryson Tiller]
What?
Tell ’em how crazy I drove you
Talk about how crazy you drove me
Talk about them favors you owe me
Talk about them
Talk about them lies you told me
Talk about true colors you showed me
Talk about them, what?
Tell ’em how crazy I drove you
Talk about how crazy you drove me
Talk about them favors you owe me
Talk about them
Talk about them lies you told me
Talk about true colors you showed me
Talk about them