Leader ft. Sativa Lyrics

Struggle how I learned how to play smart

Rappers touch a mic and think they hard

Average person can't even do they part

Yeah, homie, you should stick to your day job

Yeah, homie, I'm gon' do it better

I'm gon' hustle in the rain if we got stormy weather

I heard your girl got taken from you, yeah you probably let her

Cornballs round my city, ain't got their shit together

Shit, I can't sit here, I'm tryna make it out

Tryna find my lane, I'm on a different route

What my life about? I worked for five years, I still can't find my sound

I ain't follow no trends, I had to innovate

What you always hear when you cruisin' round the state

Southwest flavors, pepper spicin' up your day

I've been really hustlin, never takin' time to play

Tryna catch up with the things that go wrong every day

Tryna make sure I break even before getting paid

It's low-key hard keepin' me motivated

I make it look easy, other artists quitting damn near every week

Fame and riches are meant for me, how many different styles can you get from me

I can make so many different sounds

Make a beat that feels like floating on the clouds

I got rage, drill, trap, I got west coast tracks

Elvis Presley, big dawg, I'm a hound

I got bars, nobody like me either

Workin' till pockets on me fatter than Peter

I just record on my track and made a heater

I'm way better than my peers, so I guess I'm gon' be a leader

My rap game's supreme, I'm like, hello

Dick game same, for a feat, I'm falsetto

Big chips, need stacks to buy it all again

Real shit, I break her back cuz she call again

I'm all up in her tonsils, like some collagen

Real tip, I'm on my grind till we ball again

I can never see the floor, I'm on high alert

Two hoes, big packs, till I'm in her skirt

See, I can really feel what I'm talkin' bout

You see them haters talkin' shit until I walk 'em out

Fuck scrapin' up crumbs, I need a large amount

They can't approach me, if you do, you need to stall them out

Baked up, silly, really tryna touch a milli

I be slidin' in that pussy, bet I pop a wheelie

Seen a lot of homies switch a couple died young

You'll never be a bitch you want to come and try some

I can make so many different sounds

Make a beat that feels like floating on the clouds

I got rage, drill, trap, I got west coast tracks

Elvis Presley, big dawg, I'm a hound

I got bars, nobody like me either

Workin' till pockets on me fatter than Peter

I just record on my track and made a heater

I'm way better than my peers, so I guess I'm gon' be a leader