Songtext I am Rod Wave

I am

(You'll fly too if you link up with Frenchie)
(Who that, Trell?)
Uh, ayy, what the business is?
Ayy, what the business is?

Got a two-hundred box of purple, another hundred comin'
Got a hundred box of green going to the country
Told Fat, "Come get the trap, and you don't owe me nothin'"
Don't let these niggas kill you 'bout this dirty money
Don't let these niggas kill you 'bout no fuckin' change
These people, they do anything for the fame
These people, they put anything on my name
But it's okay, yeah, it's okay

'Cause I am a motherfuckin' bottom boy survivor
And this is that real shit, that raw shit, they ride to
And l am the chosen one, the only one they bankin' on
And this is that real shit, that raw shit, they waiting on (On)
And what if your glass don't want you?
Uh, uh, uh, they waiting on
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
And what if your glass don't want you?
They waiting on, they waiting on, they waiting on
Damn, Flip, dawg, I miss you, nigga, time flies
I gotta keep myself busy to keep it off my mind
I got a temper like my daddy, you can say it's true
But you know that I got that Godfather shit from you
Run the streets like the mafia, go home and eat Tilapia
Or baked chicken with the cream sauce
This ten milly cut your dreams short, uh
Ridin' with my youngin, he got somethin' that will lift your stomach
If I sing it or I sung it, best believe, I done it
If your trap ain't jumpin', you should let us run it
A old nigga'll get tied up if he get in the way
I was born a belt boy, the mafia run the game

And I am a motherfuckin' bottom boy survivor
And this is that real shit, that raw shit, they ride to
And l am the chosen one, the only one they bankin' on
And this is that real shit, that raw shit, they waiting on (On)
And what if your glass don't want you?
Uh, uh, uh, they waiting on
Uh, uh, uh, they waiting on
And what if your glass don't want you?
Uh, uh, uh, come on, come on, come on (Look)

Tryna follow me home, I'm in the rearview
Feds had followed me 'round
Deep cover shit, nigga, fuck that other shit, nigga
Made a hundred this year, now, you can call my bluff
Crazy as it sounds, I'll break it down
Made a fifty on the road, doing shows, selling clothes
Made a five in the spot selling exotic bowls
Made a dub middle-mannin' Kanye for the low
Now add a dub to that number that I told you before
They in the club throwing ones, but I can't get wit' it
I'm in the office plannin', talking, I'm going for the billy
Cuz screaming out belt, snatch the streets by they britches
Get right or get left, these niggas know the business

Sweet loyalty to the Don is strong, mind if it ain't Corson?
Then they gotta bury Corson
He was the best guy around
What about the people he murdered?
What murder?
(Tahj Money)