Fanta C E

Ayo, I'm loungin' in my drawers, fondlin' the balls. Thoughts of million-dollar bank accounts and coppin' An award. Tell 'em. Givin' a speech, tell 'em to stop with the Applause. Thank Thankin' everybody who ever stated I Was a fraud. After parties with lush and lavish Bottles to pour. While models and celebrities ask to Get in the door. Let me in. Wide body Benzes, Cartier lenses. Nice. Persian plush rugs from Asia cover the floor. Yep. Up and out of the trenches, nothin' I Can't afford. Ha Then I come to my senses While I sit in my drawers. You can have that life. Me? I'm on some dad shit. Yep. Rather see my kids grow. Well. I guess I'm average, but still I fantasize. It's no life to glamorize. There's no type of camera guys. The truck's still a standard size. It's cool, though. Cool, I go back and put On my work clothes. Fuck all that garbage, I'd rather hang with the Yard shows. With the fam. I'm chillin' at the crib, listenin' to Big. Dreamin' 'bout a yacht and countin' dollars by the Fist. Kawasaki motorcycles, Lamborghini whips. Whips. European vacays and other scenic trips. Trips. Twenty-course meals from the chef, Eatin' shrimps. Fly gold dookies, life straight out the movies. Sneakers made custom just to complement the drip. Dope. Up and out the dirt, nothin' I couldn't Get. Then I thought to myself, "Maybe this isn't It." You can have that life. Me, I'm on some dad shit. Rather see my kids grow. Oh, well. I guess I'm average, and yet I'm Still the man. Go while I chill with fam. Just minus the bills in hand. Car's still a little sedan. Cool, though. Life's good, got no complaints. Catch me hangin' at the crib. Chillin', Chillin' with the phonates.