Childish Gambino Ft. Jay Rock

Childish Gambino Ft. Jay Rock - Sour Face lyrics

rate me

[verse 1: jay rock]

do i have to rob peter just to pay paul

just to get a blessing and to get my point across?

play the game to win, get the money and the cars

pussy come free when you handle business like a boss

in that gs regal, watch me swang it like a porsche

one for sitting hard, knockin’ pictures off the wall

bitch i’m out here doggin’, and i got ‘em droppin’ charge

used to push the great white like i was swimmin’ with the sharks

i was dead broke, tell ‘em presidents they resurrected

and my dead pockets they was lifeless ’til i sold them records

i’m in the magazine posing with my nigga

double xl wide sell on a nigga

i’m so high, i could bring hell on a nigga

lifetime bars no bail for a nigga

bitches keep head and tail for a nigga

think i sold my soul away, this ice fell on a nigger

[verse 2: childish gambino]

play this in your car, give ‘em sour face

play this, play this in the club, give ‘em sour face

nigga, when they hear it, that’s that sour face

nigga lookin’ at me crazy, that’s that sour face

ring the alarm, comme des garçons

lunch with a bunch of my niggas at the pond

bowflex like a dummy, instrumental hungry

places that i’m stayin’ got more whites than all my laundry

life of a kennedy, james dean roll out

summer spent in places most my people never know about

gettin’ mama new house, for now i’m fuckin’ wearin’ it

fourth of july, bitch, my shit be so american

bless the chick i’m marryin’, keep the whole estate intact

bless the son i didn’t have, sprayed ‘em on her lower back

focus on them roaches, i ain’t never goin’ back

wine is so precocious, sippin’ on somebody’s yacht

real money’s never seen, whole thing classic

think about in 10 years, change your whole mindset

back when i would still sweat five gs

back when i was hookin’ up with ali brie—stunt!

yeah, it’s east side forever, bitch

hate mail comin’ from these niggas who was never rich

or never poor, or never fly

or seen somebody get wet up outside of golden glide

hot 107, nine dreams when i run through

man, that’s fam, steve, swank, that’s the whole crew

monster like a muppet, wallet warren buffett

camp was last year but i ain’t ever have to rough it

lookin’ fresh from the mcflys up

you don’t know about ‘em, better wise up

busy with them rollers, i don’t carry mine

(busy with them rollers, i don’t carry mine)

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