Peace of Mind

We all eatin' now, what a feelin'
Glad I don’t gotta work now, I’m chillin'
Got a lot of blanks but ain’t no need to fill in
Them, 'cause we got cash stacked to the ceiling
Better yet, ain’t no more haters in my vision
Blocked 'em out with smoke clouds, can’t feel 'em
Chock full of good vibes now, can’t kill 'em
Cause a nigga got a good ride now, paint drippin'
I ain’t trippin', shit
My mama got some landscape, it’s great
She be feelin' safe, no safe
Just steak, with a lot of A1
Low stakes
Fresh plate, with a lot of pay stubs
No shakes from the land lord
Good lord, can’t believe my eyes
Who am I, living life like I’m better deep inside
That’s right, that’s slyte, let me get it
Check mic
Might check on my niggas, one time
Check flights
Where they at, hit 'em up, scrollin' down
Check Ike
They was right down the street, whole time
That’s tight
Then we bettin' up, on sight
Now we blowin' down, where my lighter at
Peace of mind
Everybody come, get a piece of mine
Peace of mind
Everybody come, get a plate, it’s fine
(It's fine) (2X)
We all eatin' bra, what a feelin'
Glad we don’t gotta work now, we chillin'
Got a lot of blanks but ain’t no need to fill in
Them, 'cause we got cash stacked to the ceiling
Big bra can’t play the villain anymore
'Cause I got him top notch space, and a lot of whores
I’m sure, he wouldn’t mind me saying that
Shit, we got eachother’s back, ain’t no say in that
Oh, and dad he call me back, not to entrap
He likes what I rap and he wanna hear my tracks
In fact, we in this bitch right fuckin' now
With a pound, no scale, no sale
Gather round
Fuck trinidad, we gon' keep ya here
Stick around
Take a fitted cap, they don’t know ya here
We gon' get it dad
Don’t u worry bout the judge, I’ma get it dad
Sit back, smoke a fat one, hit it dad
«Yo SLYTE, get ya ass up, man. C’mon.»
«Get up. Your mom’s tappin', bra. Your mom’s tappin' my shit.»
Fuck, bra
What?
«Your mom wants you, bra.»
Man, I don’t give a fuck, bro
I do not give a shit
I’m fuckin' tired of this shit
No chick, broke whip
I’m fuckin fried in this bitch
No cents, makes sense
I’m 9 to 5'ing this bitch
And if my manager say one more word
I’m bout to flip
And get to flippin' this work pop get more than his kids
I’m sick of this life, how I’ma check on the twins
'Bout homework, when my work amounting to shit
My net worth in the negative, I’m positive bitch
But on a positive note, I got pretty bank note that say I owe my left nut where
the depositing is
At least it ain’t my dick, at least I ain’t got a kid
To show my fuckin' face around, when I ain’t got but a grip
And petty words that I can tell 'em, 'bout how I never gave a shit
But he or she should give a shit, so I get a crib up out of it
Fuck am I sayin', I’m out of it
Fuck what you sayin', I’m out of this
Man fuck this shit
All y’all niggas can suck my fuckin' dick
With ya fuckin' hands out
Put your fuckin' hands up, nigga
We don’t owe you shit
Backhouse in this bitch
(You good, man)
(Yo Seno, what the fuck wrong with this nigga?)