Urban Lyrics - R&B, Rap, Hip-Hop, Soul, Gospel & Reggae Lyrics
"Grown Kids Syndrome" lyrics by PAC DIV
Submit Lyrics     |     Correct Lyrics     |     Request Lyrics     |     New Albums     |     Contact Form     |     Links
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z # v/a
Print friendly version

"Grown Kids Syndrome"

[Verse 1: Like]
Listen, she say I'm gone a lot she cry I'm never home she thinks I'm out cheatin
She swears I'm tryna to bone she's losin trust in my she goin thru my phone she makin fake pages I had to change my code she ride by my house she sniffin dirty clothes she be like "Like I know you be out with them thirsty hoes" I'm like you buggin out I ain't concerned with those I'm tryna get this bread I'm sick of workin lowers she say I work her nerves
I make you nervous oh Ok, that's cool I see you later gotta work some more I'm on this paper chase it's nothin personal but what you offer me is less than what I'm searchin for she talk a lot of shit but it don't hurt no more she gettin fat tryna blame it on the birth control told her plain and simple this ain't gon' work no more I got money on my mind you ain't worth my dough

Money Money make the world go 'round
20, 40, 60, 80
Money, Money make the girls go wild
200, 300, 400, 5
Girl I wanna kick it but I'm tryna get paid, so I'm focused on one thing, my paper, paper.

[Verse 2: TiRon]
It's kinda funny how you said ain't no good niggas left for the good sistas what's really good with ya at the start you was prayin for a goodie good but now you want a hood nigga, someone with good figures he prolly could get you sprung of the soul clubs and the clothes guzzlin the mo' you say you lookin for a dedicated love you'll never date a scrub a church goin man who's a educated thug it's like your brains all mixed up ya take all issed up but then you claim that you independent no man providin ya cash when we at the movies why we slide to the back when it's time to pay what kinda games you tryna play aim for the finer things fame and designer frames chains and the diamond rings names I be tryna chase can't stop apply the brakes maybe what I'm tryna say is...


Baby baby baby I work...

[Verse 3: Like]
To get you out ya mommas house (and...)
To get your lazy ass of that couch
To get you to close your mouth and to stop you from yellin at me (fo' real) just the other day you threw melons at me but when my check came you was hella happy (why?) you see what I go thru and after all this I owe you? girl I'm still wearing old shoes hold up did you just order tofu? that's the highest thing on the menu let me guess want me to pay for your friend too (nope) this is cuttin like a ginsu knife to my soul oh you losin control just a year ago you fell in love with the flow now you just like the rap game in love with the dough


Found a mistake in "Grown Kids Syndrome" song lyrics? Please correct it!

Back to all PAC DIV lyrics

Thank you for choosing UrbanLyrics.com!
We will never show you a blank page instead of song lyrics.
Top Song Lyrics Of The Week

"Hot Nigga"

by J. COLE
Top 3 R&B, Rap, Hip-Hop, Soul, Gospel, Reggae artists by lyrics popularity this month

#1 KEVIN GATES lyrics
#2 DRAKE lyrics
#3 NICKI MINAJ lyrics
Our Respect
Top 100 Lyrics
Alive Lyrics
Submit Lyrics | Correct Lyrics | Request Lyrics | Privacy Policy | Advertising Information | Contact Form | Links
"Grown Kids Syndrome" lyrics is property and copyright of its actual owners and provided for educational purposes and personal use only.
Copyright ©2006-2015 UrbanLyrics