Mandevillain

[Pre-Chorus]
Yeah, tell you somethin', this ain't luck, I'm bonafide
You shoot it down, oh well, at least a nigga tried
Two fingers up, we push that bullshit to the side
This ain't enough, we goin' up, you tryna slide?
Tell you somethin', this ain't luck, I'm bonafide (Bonafide)
You shoot it down, oh well, at least a nigga tried (A nigga tried)
Two fingers up, we push that bullshit to the side (To the side)
This ain't enough, we goin' up, you tryna slide? (Slide)

[Chorus]
All my nigga 'bout it, talkin' 'bout we catchin' vibes
Last time I checked, I'm earnin' millions off of mines
Sell my soul to someone in this world, I rathеr starve
Armani suit, lit cigar, Bottega boot
The smеlls of gasoline'll fill the booth, Future Proof (Future Proof)
Marni suit, lit cigar, Bottega boot
The smells of gasoline'll fill the booth (Future Proof)

[Verse]
I'm bout to link my niggas, and they know me, man, I never care
But they got the good speakers, and you can smoke in here
You play your politicians, you be snitchin' like you Paul Revere
Man I love this rappin' shit, I hope you never disappear (Okay)
I was still a kid, I pulled my first rhymes from thin air
Skinny nigga, but believe that Biggie really brought me here (Uh-huh)
Inspired by The Foo Fighters, if you quit, then you tired
And you liars could get a whole drum, and a new wire
Blood in my hands
The wrong nigga to get caught in a jam with
I don't understand how we can defeat this famine, too many starvin'
Untap these ruthless artists, dispelled these Reaganomics
Too much champagne make you vomit
I'm at the peak, funny rappers at my feet
Only accurate if you can say you mastered what you teach (Let's go)
How I break bread, make sure them killers always stay fed
Patience, brought me up the ladder where we shake hands (Got damn)
Easy money foreign, touchin' fake fans (Got damn)
Sit on dirty money, you won't stand a chance in my lane
The octane, blood in my hands mostly
Only became associates when they hesitated to toast me
They movin' closely, they motives salty
The game encroached me, stand on my own feet
The angels watchin' over
I was designed to make a meal but now my cup is spillin' over, and over, and over

[Chorus]
Armani suit, lit cigar, Bottega boot
The smells of gasoline'll fill the booth, Future Proof
Marni suit, lit cigar, Bottega boot
The smells of gasoline'll fill the booth (Future Proof)
(I've never been here before)