Vince Staples - Track 7 lyrics

Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah) Is your house big? Is your car nice? Is your girl fine? f** her all night Is you well paid? Is your shows packed? If your soul played, would they know that? How the thug life? How the love life? How the work load? Is your buzz right? Is the trap out? Is the club right? Got your head right? Boy, yeah right Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah) Pretty women wanna slit the wrist Pretty women wanna be a rich man's b**h Pretty women wanna couple kids Pretty women wanna new a**, new lips Pretty women wanna push a Benz Come correct and she won't let you in Dumbing through the you get checks again Diamonds on your neck is dumb pretend Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah) Got it under me that you change with direction Your face in Got it under me that tells me you are blocking with deficiency Your placing You're pretend to get a better idea about the lifestyle Your tracing Keep pretending that you're real until I free something that's erased Pop 'til it's faking Pop 'til the wrist pop Pop 'til he shaking Pop like four on the floor been in rotation No allegation Popular demand, I understand my name is only for conversation New York n***a be like "dead a**" L.A. n***a be like "on the dead homies" I was out the Porsch like Fed-Ex Two-Eleven got bread on me K-Dot twilight like the side pa**ed Roll like fried rice and power shrimp Temporary pimp, nah, don't remember them Just canary yellow him jumping out the f**ing gym Swang like new Dame and Wayne Paint like two David Wayne's with tie early Fade like shadows, a stallion, cattle A b**hes decision for you, it's narrow Collision, the money, and fame, the pharaoh The physicist, the chemist, the lame Collateral for Kendrick whenever exchange Compatible for riches with more to gain A sad n***a? Yeah right I don't fair fight but I bear fight Looking for my next roll k** for the headlight Even though my last four Q's for the highlights My life, highlight, house wife, bye, bye Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right) Boy yeah right, yeah right, yeah right (Boy yeah)