Facts - Stitches

One motherfuckin' question they always ask me

Do I get high of my own supply?

Shut the fuck up, mind your business

Do I get high off my own supply?

Do I get high off my own supply?

Do I get high off my own supply?

Do I get high off my own supply?

Guess what?

Hell yeah, hell yeah

Hell yeah, hell yeah

Hell yeah, hell yeah

Hell yeah, hell yeah

I do get high of my own supply

Tell me what you know 'bout stayin' up the whole night

It’s a tiredness up in my body that I can’t fight

So I gotta do a line of that cocaine, bruh

Am I bad cause I like to do a lil coke, bruh?

My kid always got that food up on his plate

My family always got money in they bank

I’m a G up in these streets, you know I got that rank

And I ain’t fuckin' that bitch if the pussy stank

It’s six-AM in the fuckin' mornin'

My cocaine and my dick got her moanin'

Fuck Young Jeezy, I’m the real fuckin' Snowman

Big Meech went up in prison and you went ghost, man

Do I get high off my own supply?

Do I get high off my own supply?

Do I get high off my own supply?

Do I get high off my own supply?

Guess what?

Hell yeah, hell yeah

Hell yeah, hell yeah

Hell yeah, hell yeah

Hell yeah, hell yeah

I do get high of my own supply

Take it how you want it

Fuck that beef, I guarantee you that I won it

This ain’t no image, dog, you don’t fuckin' want it

I show up to your show and crack you with a bottle

Like Gucci Mane, fool

I’m corrupt like the system

I done a lotta shit but never been a victim

Once he upon the floor my Timberland’s gon' kick him

The world know that I’m real, the whole world, you done tricked 'em

Fake fool

Do I get high off my own supply?

Do I get high off my own supply?

Do I get high off my own supply?

Do I get high off my own supply?

Guess what?

Hell yeah, hell yeah

Hell yeah, hell yeah

Hell yeah, hell yeah

Hell yeah, hell yeah

I do get high of my own supply

Straight up, fool!

That fake rappin' that shit!

That fake ass image you got, boy!

You ain’t no dope, boy!

Act right boy, dont come to my city no more

I put a real pound in yo head

Matter fact, 50 racks for any piece of jewelry that fool got on

Act right like that song you jumped on with Yo Gotti, fool

And don’t come around talkin' about you gon' put racks on my head

Cause the next show you do, I’ll be there, motherfucker!

And you better have mo' straps than T.I.

on that motherfucker tour bus, fool!