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thinkin' 2 myself - pros ap lyrics

[intro]
uh
steady

[verse 1]
thinkin’ to myself like who gon’ be there for me if i lose it all?
won’t put my trust inside these n*ggas and most definitely not these broads
i was just young as h*ll, bad as f*ck, breakin’ all the laws
my n*gga stole some petty money, i still love him, that’s my dog
i ain’t get here overnight, i took a loss before a loss
man, this sh*t ain’t all good, i had to crawl before i walk (n*gga)
lil’ brodie said he want a bag, you know it’s gettin’ tossed
most n*ggas say they with you, but this sh*t be all talk

[chorus]
it’s time to run some money up, my b*tch want her tummy tucked
my mama want that caddy truck, i’m tryna hold that patek up (i am)
imagine us, back*to*back in foreigns, holdin’ traffic up
that’s lil pros from d block, he stuntin’ now, they mad as f*ck
a thousand grams in the pop, came soft, now it’s a rock
n*ggas know i’m sellin’ top, the phone ringin’ like my pops
n*ggas talkin’ to the cops, got me back sellin’ the ‘za
before i go broke like i’m ja, could get my trap on like i’m ma

[verse 2]
i’m a bad b*tch hitter (yeah), i’m a louis bag getter
i’m a grown man, you underbossing, this a cash difference
i see bad b*tches that spend it, you still cheap as h*ll, n*ggas finished
i f*ck up a bag and reget it, i sell water, n*gga, no swimmin’
like woo, that’s them ice ‘bows, you still tryna punch iphones
i sell bigs for the twenty*three like woo, put your mikes on (mike jordan)
don’t cut no lights on, lil’ n*gga, i got my ice on
i sell cream, sell rocks up, blowin’, i get rocks gone
don’t call me twin, you can’t trap like me (you can’t)
you ain’t never made a fifty, you can’t brag like me
that petty*ass sh*t, i move your bag in my sleep
the plug love me ’cause he know i move that bag in a week
i tell my young n*gga to move a load before he rob a n*gga
best prices on the block, the whole hood shoppin’ with me
he braggin’ ’bout his bodies, i brag ’bout my pockets, n*gga
and cuz just bust a watch, can’t you tell that time’s different?
[chorus]
it’s time to run some money up, my b*tch want her tummy tucked
my mama want that caddy truck, i’m tryna hold that patek up (i am)
imagine us, back*to*back in foreigns, holdin’ traffic up
that’s lil pros from g block, he stuntin’ now, they mad as f*ck
a thousand grams in the— uh, came soft, now it’s a— uh
n*ggas know i’m sellin’— uh, my phone ringin’ like my pops
n*ggas talkin’ to the cops, got me back sellin’ the ‘za
before i go broke like i’m ja, could get my trap on like i’m ma

- pros ap lyrics

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