| Raised by the internet
|
| Life: money, cars, clothes, hoes; |
| incorrect
|
| Yeah, eyes closed, intellect
|
| My generation never die, it’s a bet
|
| Raised by the internet
|
| Life: money, cars, clothes, hoes; |
| incorrect
|
| Ayy, eyes closed, intellect
|
| My generation never die
|
| My generation never die
|
| When my bones cigarillo dry
|
| Celebrate for my souls in vanilla sky
|
| In the larger scheme of things, we say, «Hello, bye»
|
| Only one shot at life, but we settle, why?
|
| Fuck Illuminati, kick the system with my shell toes
|
| Made my enterprise off ecstasy and elbows
|
| New Chanel bag, overshop on Melrose
|
| She like attention, naked pictures on her cell phones
|
| Me? |
| I be poppin' pills, tryin' to populate my ills
|
| Pops lacked communicative skills, paid the bills
|
| Left me and my momma, sister broke, I had to build
|
| My mind the only sword that I could wield, so I killed
|
| Any bitch ass rapper tryna show the skin and say he ill
|
| Y’all mumble ass some bullshit, I can’t understand the feel
|
| Y’all flash a lot of weapons, you ain’t go pop somethin' real
|
| Y’all, only generation know just how it feel
|
| Raised by the internet
|
| Life: money, cars, clothes, hoes; |
| incorrect
|
| Yeah, raised by the internet
|
| My generation never die, it’s a bet
|
| Yeah, raised by the internet
|
| Life: money, cars, clothes, hoes; |
| incorrect
|
| Yeah, raised by the internet
|
| My generation never die, it’s a bet
|
| Momma sing me lullabies in my native tongue, ayy ayy
|
| A hunnid forty characters of love, ayy ayy
|
| Slide into my DMs like a tongue, ayy ayy
|
| Snap it one more time and make me cum, ayy ayy
|
| Now everybody say that they the plug, ayy ayy
|
| You pull up on 'em and they out of drugs, ayy ayy
|
| Where I’m from, everybody bloods, ayy ayy
|
| Least that’s what they say, but I can’t trust it, ayy
|
| Oh, gun inside my coupe big as a musket, ayy
|
| Pray I don’t bust it, ayy, they tryna disrupt it, ayy
|
| They wanna catch up to me, take all of mustard, ayy
|
| But shit, they rushed it, ayy, they way too flustered, bae
|
| I’m way too calculated, you kicked out, you hate it
|
| Once they see you in the streets, all that sideways talk 'bout how you
|
| overrated turn to, «How you made it?»
|
| «How you on so much drugs, not sedated?»
|
| «You still fuck with Baby? |
| Ain’t that shit with him and Lil Wayne crazy?
|
| He gon' pay you, dog, for your rhymin' skills?»
|
| «Ain't you sittin' inside that Panamera Forgiatos, dog? |
| How that feel?»
|
| «You see Nicki ass in person? |
| I don’t know if that shit real»
|
| «I just Googled your net worth, it say you worth a hunnid mill»
|
| «I just clocked out of my nine-to-five, I got a drug to deal
|
| I’ma be as famous as you when I make it out of here»
|
| Out the stratosphere where my thoughts intersect
|
| Just a bunch of young motherfuckers, raised by the internet
|
| Raised by the internet
|
| Life: money, cars, clothes, hoes; |
| incorrect
|
| Raised by the internet
|
| My generation never die, it’s a bet
|
| Raised by the internet
|
| Life: money, cars, clothes, hoes; |
| incorrect
|
| Raised by the internet
|
| My generation never die, it’s a bet |