Stay-at-home fad - Grimey or something lyrics

[Hook] I love you Please bring my money on time You don't want the grime [Verse 1: Themba Ntaka] Fifty cents for my cigarette, a cookie's no better I'll evanesce like smoke before I fall like sh** People judge me like I got smoker's breath at the addiction ceremony As if I spread bologna to kids Now you're on your own, boy Homeboy topple tracks But since I'm not home I don't dress up in the reference I'm alone girl, pick up your phone And tennis balls don't ever make a goal so he's bouncing off the walls Refusal of flaccid handshakes from those who work like fake acid to rip n***as off Mad nuts I gaze at who want the sky to fall and place blame on the wrong rival [Hook] I love you Please bring my money on time You don't want the grime I know a prostitute who goes natural She's down to earth about whatever she does, she gotta bring that money on time