Baby Money – 05:47 Lyrics

05:47 Lyrics by Baby Money

[Intro]
(Yo, Nick Papz, make it slap)
(Ayy, young, but he got that talent)

[Verse]
Took a minute ‘fore I did it, ain’t think I could move weed
Then I seen you spend a thousand, you can make like three G’s
Now I’m that nigga you see, all the plugs knew me
He was just serving QPs, how he get with QC?
And you probably couldn’t get in these Amiris
I done sat down in the trenches and sat down in the prisons
And I always dodged detention
‘Cause when they see you tripping when them bitches come and get you, I seen plenty niggas did it
‘Cause my unc’ and them was rich back in them wild ’80s
Passed down the gift, now I’m backin’ in a 580
My mama rеnt due, my judge still tryna slay me
Stand through it all and I just found out I had a baby
I pray to God whеn they call us you ain’t have no statement
Cooperation mean your life gettin’ confiscated
They hit you with the RICO and it’s an operation
Money and hoes ain’t gon’ make up for that time you facing
If it’s trapper of the year, I bet I’m nominated
A real hustler, I done turned a million pounds to shake
You try to play me, gon’ be morning by the time you wake
Dropped out of school, but I’m always tryna find some pape’
I get real money
All I ask is loyalty and you don’t steal from me
He asking for a quarter ki’ and he gon’ kill somethin’
I make the call, he shoot his shot like he Bill Russell
I lost the closest people to me, I don’t feel nothin’
I shot dice since I was five, paid rent since I was eight
Had a job when I was nine, I got fired, I was late
Ask my mama, if I’m lyin’, I can die the next day
The NBA took too long, I had to find the next way
Parents called before he died, it be fuckin’ with my brain
Ten minutes ‘fore it happened, I couldn’t tell what he was saying
So how the fuck I stay sane? Nigga poppin’ all these painkillers
Shit is not the same, nigga, shit is not the same, nigga
And they told me it get worse ‘fore it get better
I wish I had my nigga here so we could get cheddar
The snow fall in the city, we gon’ switch weathers
Two niggas with a pistol, we some big steppers
Tryna make out the M like we Chris Webber
Tryna walk inside the bank with a big letter
She tryna fuck the whole gang, boy, this bitch desperate
You wanna get your clio up, you gotta get testers
A hundred ‘bows through TSA, the risk determine what you make
We let the real done turn to fake, I’m tryna fill my heart with drank
Three Percs in my body, I ain’t been feelin’ all the pain
We all goin’ through some shit is what I’m sayin’