LOW - Emilio Rojas

They say I’m too real for these fuck boys

And I’m too real for these hoes

With a bad bitch with that good

She getting low, aw yeah she getting low, low, low

Hell yeah we getting low, low, low

They say I’m too real for my city

I’m too real with that flow

And we be in that Audi getting low

Aw yeah we getting low, low, low

Hell yeah we getting low, low, low

We getting, we getting low

I’m not a god, somebody lied, I got apostles in the car

And they all are willing to ride, we uptown around Dyckman

Riding around with them dyke chicks and they both bad

And they both mad because usually they don’t like dick

I’m in a Brietling with no bling ‘cause diamonds ain’t my thing

And the chick I wipe down, I won’t wife now

Now that bitch don’t get no ring, I’m the Jefe

And I live in the city the Jets claim

I was always a fan of the Knicks so I never be sitting

And watching the Nets game, the best thing in the city except Jay

My middle finger been touching my ring finger

There’s a thin line for love and hate

My father left when I was young and made my mother wait

That filled me up with hunger, now I don’t eat till mother straight

While y’all been spending money on them colleges

We bought so many bottles, we could piss away a scholarship

My money loud, that’s why them bitches get to hollering

It’s quiet if it isn’t bringing dollars in

And my day job is that night life, I got no shame, I got no regrets

I never gave a fuck about hindsight and play no games

It’s still my life, we’ll be rolling around like a highlight

And I roll around with them lowlifes and we all are living that high life

Riding around in that V, hiding a pound in my jeans

Getting the women you wishing you hitting

And then I be sliding them down to they knees, I am the one

Razor blade under the tongue, never would talk to the judge

Up in the Roc to get in the hospital

Where the doctors pumping my lungs (pumping my lungs)

And I never gotta show and prove, I show improvement

And my crew is like a fucking GPS, we showing movement, right?

Too busy making decisions to make excuses

If nobody tryna use you, that prove to me that you useless

I’m my own fucking business, homie, I pay myself

I don’t ever choose ‘cause hard decisions tend to make themselves

If you hate on me now, it’s ‘cause you hate yourself

All I ever follow is the paper trail