The Author - Rich Homie Quan

The average person like Nard & B

Gon think this shit I’m talkin' bout made up

Or make believe or some shit

But nah man, this my everyday life dawg

Trenchwerk

I got some stories I’m tellin' but they not made up

Don’t try to dap me, just spare me, don’t want that fake love

18 ain’t know ‘bout no Rollie, wanted a Jacob

So when I tell you this story know they not made up

Keep on my chain when I fuck her, bae yeah we made love

It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up

I told my mama go get it because she know I got it

Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it

We just extra flexin' (yeah)

Hundred racks on a necklace (ohh)

First time I got booked in Houston

Sold out show in Texas (sold out showing)

I couldn’t make no money off this at first

This shit was stressful (at first it was)

I was in these niggas face with my CD

Just like a freckle (aye, aye)

I was prolly leavin' the studio

When they was on they way to breakfast

When they was prolly goin' to sleep

I was still up I was goin' extra

Right before the new Walmart, I was still on Gresham

I told myself, «Never fall off, Quan you gotta do better»

I do this shit in real life nigga, no make-believe (no, no)

I was broke as hell growin' up

Now fifty what I make a week (yeah, yeah)

Rich in spirit, that the way to be (rich homie baby)

These niggas cotton

And I’m harder than 'em (that right too)

It’s copywritten 'cause I wrote it, I’m the author nigga

I got some stories I’m tellin' but they not made up

Don’t try to dap me, just spare me, don’t want that fake love

18 ain’t know 'bout no Rollie, wanted a Jacob

So when I tell you these stories know they not made up

Keep on my chain when I fuck her, bae ya we made love

It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up

I told my mama, go get it because she know I got it

Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it

At the strip club, we at day shift

Fifty thousand on my bracelet

Eight months I was savin'

House so big no neighbors yeah

Tryna out ball my paper yeah

Real life story not made up (nah)

In high school fuckin' hoes by Stephenson

Out by Decatur (fuck them hoes)

Smokin' by the cafeteria back near the gyms

Smokin' mid throwin' out the seeds

And spittin' out the stems (spittin' out the stems)

Niggas tried to count me dow

So I had to bend the rim (I bent my act)

I remember mama house, recording, no engineer (hey, hey)

Remember when grandmama died

It hurt, couldn’t shed a tear

I swear I saw my mama cry

Didn’t know there’ll be better years (I love you mama)

I try to put away my pride, no middle

Face all my fears (nah real talk man)

We need a plate, don’t try to starve us

Can’t make this up when you the author (rich homie baby)

I got some stories I’m tellin' but they not made up

Don’t try to dap me, just spare me, don’t want that fake love

18 ain’t know 'bout no Rollie, wanted a Jacob

So when I tell you these stories know they not made up

Keep on my chain when I fuck her, bae ya we made love

It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up

I told my mama go get it because she know I got it

Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it

Trenchwerk