The Season - Marc E. Bassy

Fuck if I get on, I’ma keep smoking

Hit me later on for some deep stroking

I’ve been writing songs just to keep coping

Check him every month, put a lease on it

Put a ring on it if you’re married to it

Lifestyle of the rich and foolish

All my wives just become muses

All my dimes just become shooters

She told me

«No more late night leaving»

I told her, «Baby, it’s the season

Everybody’s tryna make a way

And I can never trust a word you say»

Fuck if I get rich, I still got my brothers

You ain’t nothing new, you just singing covers

Don’t carry the torch if they call my number

I probably live on, I don’t use no rubbers

Summer '17, and it’s hot than ever

Let’s go to my spot, just got it together

I don’t gotta lie, but I really do though

That’s how we get taught, I’ma love my crew though

So she said

«No more late night leaving»

I told her, «Baby, it’s the season

Everybody’s tryna make a way

And I can never trust a word you say»

I’ll be loyal baby, I swear I will be

If I step out of line, girl, it’s still me

In a Audi, but I’m leaning like the Sun Impala

Acting boujee, girl I’ve never seen you at Met Gala

You a groupie, baby don’t go blame it on ya momma

Plus a dude is basic, probably take you to Katana

Got beads in my bracelet, let me speak a little mantra

Fake it 'til you make it, that’s the only way to prosper

I don’t see the difference between trap or doctor

Used to see the priest as someone with nothing to offer

Lately I’ve been talking like I got a holy father

Really always felt like music kept from me a higher power

If I don’t speak my mind it was just a wasted hour

All in line for line let the story be about us

«No more late night leaving»

I told her, «Baby, it’s the season

Everybody’s tryna make a way

And I can never trust a word you say»