Paychecks (Intro) - Lute

Another day, another dollar

We just tryna provide

Another day, another drama

Couple shots in the sky

'Cause every day was Fourth of July

Minus the ambulance, news, cameraman

Pan to the homicide

Look at mama cry, pray to God I see 25

Knock on wood, wood grain wheels strolling through the hood

Sitting proper like a nigga should

Gold chain with the cross like a hater jug

They like Lute, drop another mother fuckin' mixtape

You ain’t got shit to prove, I got shit to do

Plus, my rent is due so I I assume

You gon' pay my dues for my lease is up

Ain’t got shit to prove, I got shit to do

Baby mama trippin' bout some formula

Contemplating robbing banks and hold 'em up

Fuck my 9 to 5, but my lights is on

Bright enough to write this song where I belong

Like fuck it, what’s that ruckus in the trunk, bruh

Lute, where the fuck that shit that can bump, bruh?

True, all I spit is real, hope that you can feel

Whether it be my pain or how a nigga live

Now a nigga back, back up in the trap

Preciate the love, so I love you back

Even when my home ain’t where the love is at

I’m just tryna feed my daughter, nigga, fuck a rap

Lord, I can’t ever catch a break

I can’t depend on this shit here to save me

'Cause a lately I been working up a scheme

I can’t spend my life chasing no paycheck

Lord, I can’t ever catch a break

I can’t depend on this shit here to save me

'Cause a lately I been working up a scheme

I can’t spend my life chasing no paycheck