Vent Lyrics

Yeah

Uh-huh, it's proven

Just wanna talk to y'all

Real briefly and

And really talk, you know it's from the heart

Let you know how I'm feelin' and shit

You know, it's proven

I don't know why these dudes hatin' on me

But the front, I ain't got the patience for it

I'm in the cut with my fitted on

Take it off, niggas dare wanna get it on

All I love is my squad, my moms

These niggas need to chill and can't fight with no arms

Your boy stay lower, than Saddam

But come over here and try somethin', I'll send a warning

The flow been hot, but it's gettin' warmer

And I ain't gon' lie, I got dough but I need more of it

I guess I got a problem, give me somethin

To control this shit

Real talk, all the jokes, it's over with

I'm poppin' like a shaked up soda kid

Chicks know the biz, I be all in they ribs

If I could see the bullseye, I won't miss

Wanna play with my chips, he gettin' dipped

Banana clip there and his ass gon' slip

And I do it so well, just a gift

I'm still hearin' somebody watchin' my six

And whether that, they may admit

Niggas ain't rockin' like this

They try to catch me, but they ain't got no mitts

He said he flood the strip where the goddamn bricks

Nigga use a goddamn trip

And I'm walkin' outta here like it's not your bitch

I'm so gone from them niggas

I'm way ahead of him, blown with my brederen

Sippin' on medicine, talkin' to the track like it ain't no competitors

Speakin' from the heart, I'm my damn hood's reverend

Proven in the house, kick my shoes off, settle in

Start the dice game up, shoot the devil in

Dudes talkin' like they big, but they the middlemen

I speak forward to them guys, I don't riddle them

No time for fake niggas, only time to make figures

Increase digits, it's like there's little midgets in my head sayin

Spit this, the women love it, the haters resent this

The team ain't switch, we like San An, bitch

It's MGM and we want more chips

Niggas dyin' left and right, somethin' wrong with this pic

Fake tough guys ridin' with no learner's permit

They chasin' pussy around, money I go get

I shoot the rock like I'm not gon' miss, kinda cocky

But you can blame my pop for that shit, my drive's like Rockies

I keep talkin' my shit, Swiss on base

B.A. on base, Fedel on base

Watch me grand slam that way, then we fly like the jets that way

I'm the pilot on this plane, ain't nobody bombing on this plane

Three dudes I just mentioned, they pilot their own plane

So it's safe to say that the sky's our domain

Propane flow, I'm the skillet

Burnin' niggas down like it's cocaine blow

My motto is get it till you got no more

And I'ma still get it even if the shit's slow

You know the money that'll fuck the whole team

Call it nympho dough, that'll have the kid brighter than them Frisco folk

Keep talkin' slick shit, you on the list too, bro

And I'm just speakin' off of mental notes

And the difference between me and them niggas

Is they some bitches, bonafide snitches

Till they get washed up and rinsed like dishes

Yes, this is me talkin', no, it ain't the liquor

I'm in the booth, one takin' it, uncensored

Might not remember what I said, but I meant it

Maybe at the time, but now I choose to forget it

Tryin' to find an opening, spinning on my pivot

To holla at the chick with the booty like delicious

And as I keep on venting, the more white folk move in

The more the evictions, there's condos in Harlem

Who the fuck can afford this shit? It's lost up in Harlem

Who the fuck would've thought of it

What soon? The projects will be gone

I mean, I'm just wonderin

There's somethin' to think about

The next time you go to your favorite store

But it's closed, cause the rent is up

And people playin' vicious, huh

Nevermind it

I just keep venting, baby

I don't give a fuck what you say, what you do

I just do me

You know

I almost cried, man

Really

Let's go get high, Charles