Cordae — Rock Bottom

[Verse 1: YBN Cordae] Nigga I gotta blow, I got a lot of foes 'Cause where I’m from, you get jumped like Geronimo We rock designer clothes, well fuck the honor roll You cannot hop in the booth, if you not a bro Shootin' like James, we'll let that rocket go I’m manifested, I know that my pockets gold Rap shit my life, and this shit a pot of gold It be official, tell them niggas "Aidios" Niggas is mad I'm ahead of my time, sick is the flow, leave m dead with the rhyme Never call him, cause the feds on his line, picked up the pencil instead of the 9 They hot as bodies that you never goin find, they dropped the case, better than mine Never progressin, you know that I heard that stuff I just assume that they don't work and stuff Lies about pies, I promise they're purppin tough How everybody that rap is a murderer? How you be trappin, but lackin the cirtinty I'm about coins, and I'm chasin the currency Snap out of it, never a problem with it Like my producer, dog, I stay Anonymous Still signed to Country Boy, that kid Carolina shit It was a drout, and he could never find his hit Ayy, watch how I fuck up this track though Niggas say they fly but I'm petrodactyl All these rappers are like my little rascals Whippin snappers yeah you know I'm an asshole Lil nigga why you cocky and bashful? Bro, keep a couple pills in a satchle Ballin out, like I just won a raffle Labels hit me and I got em all baffled [Verse 2: Simba] Lil nigga, I got big amounts I’m just tryna see bigger counts Got the water flowin, like a river rout Niggas sneak dissin, be spesific now Curry, the way I dish it out Got my grandma askin, what’s this bout Ain't fuckin with me, then you missin out /bring the dissin out, I bring the pistols out Thought I couldn’t do it, now they listen to it The feds wanna call me a shot back You want me with Faruko, cause I bought you a pistol Stop hating, you ain't even boss yet Dollar signs is what I must get I got old money, like a Muskit