hands up!

Hands up if you think I'm the realist Never mind baby put your hands down Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out Wayne State University... School ain't my thing I say it commercially But bands is on the way like ASU drum majors I'm major and working on my patience to paper but That lack of station thrusted me to my day shift; classes, asses, dropping weight on fits Ordering hash on the weekends if a nigga get too slim She get a call on a midnight like she is The Weeknd Ha, young nigga addicted. I guess she gets the victor But that money steady flowing like my name is Viktor But if my name ain't remembered, will I have existed? Shit I'm reminiscing So I guess I'm living, huh I need a preacher or a replicated liver The lyrics sink into the pillow like when I had kissed her And I was never perfect with the demolition, that's why I'm penny wishing until I get myself a Bentley Hands up if you think I'm the realist Never mind baby put your hands down Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out Reinforce, who's the number one in the zip Is he course? I don't know, he's mumbling and shit But he's sitting on top, I mean he's surveying his wrist, peeping people steady talking while his Rollie never ticks Lows be looking at the bottom on this California chick I was playing her the Venice tracks and packing up the spliff 'Thank you Anderson Paak.' I mean, hey K-Dot you're the shit But I'm sorry to say there's no vacation in my spit And my spot is warm as hell, ironic? I think it's not Hands up, hands up, I'm giving everything I've got Got a couple in the pot like a Leprechaun I'm not The type of nigga that'll stop Like call of duty with the drops Hands up if you think I'm the realist Never mind baby put your hands down Throw em up if your nigga wants me in the dirt I ain't digging with that shit, I gotta fan out