Hands up if you think I'm the realist
Never mind baby put your hands down
Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt
I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out
Wayne State University...
School ain't my thing I say it commercially
But bands is on the way like ASU drum majors
I'm major and working on my patience to paper but
That lack of station thrusted me to my day shift; classes, asses, dropping weight on fits
Ordering hash on the weekends if a nigga get too slim
She get a call on a midnight like she is The Weeknd
Ha, young nigga addicted. I guess she gets the victor
But that money steady flowing like my name is Viktor
But if my name ain't remembered, will I have existed?
Shit I'm reminiscing
So I guess I'm living, huh I need a preacher or a replicated liver
The lyrics sink into the pillow like when I had kissed her
And I was never perfect with the demolition, that's why I'm penny wishing until I get myself a Bentley
Hands up if you think I'm the realist
Never mind baby put your hands down
Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt
I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out
Reinforce, who's the number one in the zip
Is he course? I don't know, he's mumbling and shit
But he's sitting on top, I mean he's surveying his wrist, peeping people steady talking while his Rollie never ticks
Lows be looking at the bottom on this California chick
I was playing her the Venice tracks and packing up the spliff
'Thank you Anderson Paak.' I mean, hey K-Dot you're the shit
But I'm sorry to say there's no vacation in my spit
And my spot is warm as hell, ironic? I think it's not
Hands up, hands up, I'm giving everything I've got
Got a couple in the pot like a Leprechaun I'm not
The type of nigga that'll stop
Like call of duty with the drops
Hands up if you think I'm the realist
Never mind baby put your hands down
Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt
I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out
hands up! Video (MV)
obmv - hands up! Lyrics
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English
Hands up if you think I'm the realist
Never mind baby put your hands down
Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt
I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out
Wayne State University...
School ain't my thing I say it commercially
But bands is on the way like ASU drum majors
I'm major and working on my patience to paper but
That lack of station thrusted me to my day shift; classes, asses, dropping weight on fits
Ordering hash on the weekends if a nigga get too slim
She get a call on a midnight like she is The Weeknd
Ha, young nigga addicted. I guess she gets the victor
But that money steady flowing like my name is Viktor
But if my name ain't remembered, will I have existed?
Shit I'm reminiscing
So I guess I'm living, huh I need a preacher or a replicated liver
The lyrics sink into the pillow like when I had kissed her
And I was never perfect with the demolition, that's why I'm penny wishing until I get myself a Bentley
Hands up if you think I'm the realist
Never mind baby put your hands down
Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt
I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out
Reinforce, who's the number one in the zip
Is he course? I don't know, he's mumbling and shit
But he's sitting on top, I mean he's surveying his wrist, peeping people steady talking while his Rollie never ticks
Lows be looking at the bottom on this California chick
I was playing her the Venice tracks and packing up the spliff
'Thank you Anderson Paak.' I mean, hey K-Dot you're the shit
But I'm sorry to say there's no vacation in my spit
And my spot is warm as hell, ironic? I think it's not
Hands up, hands up, I'm giving everything I've got
Got a couple in the pot like a Leprechaun I'm not
The type of nigga that'll stop
Like call of duty with the drops
Hands up if you think I'm the realist
Never mind baby put your hands down
Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt
I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out
Never mind baby put your hands down
Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt
I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out
Wayne State University...
School ain't my thing I say it commercially
But bands is on the way like ASU drum majors
I'm major and working on my patience to paper but
That lack of station thrusted me to my day shift; classes, asses, dropping weight on fits
Ordering hash on the weekends if a nigga get too slim
She get a call on a midnight like she is The Weeknd
Ha, young nigga addicted. I guess she gets the victor
But that money steady flowing like my name is Viktor
But if my name ain't remembered, will I have existed?
Shit I'm reminiscing
So I guess I'm living, huh I need a preacher or a replicated liver
The lyrics sink into the pillow like when I had kissed her
And I was never perfect with the demolition, that's why I'm penny wishing until I get myself a Bentley
Hands up if you think I'm the realist
Never mind baby put your hands down
Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt
I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out
Reinforce, who's the number one in the zip
Is he course? I don't know, he's mumbling and shit
But he's sitting on top, I mean he's surveying his wrist, peeping people steady talking while his Rollie never ticks
Lows be looking at the bottom on this California chick
I was playing her the Venice tracks and packing up the spliff
'Thank you Anderson Paak.' I mean, hey K-Dot you're the shit
But I'm sorry to say there's no vacation in my spit
And my spot is warm as hell, ironic? I think it's not
Hands up, hands up, I'm giving everything I've got
Got a couple in the pot like a Leprechaun I'm not
The type of nigga that'll stop
Like call of duty with the drops
Hands up if you think I'm the realist
Never mind baby put your hands down
Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt
I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out
Writer: Kahlil Floyd
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid