Sunday’s Best/Monday’s Worst

Lyrics

[Part 1: Sunday's Best] [Verse 1] Ayo, rise in the AM – early morning laying, I just wanna stay in I just wanna lay in – Pops like "get your ass up, stop the faking" "We already late, and..." Sunday morning waking, faking like my stomach's aching Moms pull out clothes just for Sunday's best occasion Bowtie, no lie, church shoes was aching 80-degree weather in a blazer, body blazing Already can't wait until this day end Just a little nigga that would rather be home video-gaming Now we on our way in – deacon speaking Preacher preaching to that congregation, mason (mason...mason) Minds wandering off, not hearing that man of the cloth Talk about that man on the cross Now we back to praying Old ladies with church fans screaming out ''amen'' Looking at that painting on the stained glass Watching while that collection plate pass Tithes, offering, to me it's all the same cash Fast forward, got older – a youngin' that's gone bad Let me rephrase that, a youngin' that went down that wrong path No matter how religious Moms or Pops was Still had encounters with the cops (I was young) Product of that environment I was in Once I left that front door, I could have been out of here Bullets flying is the norm, so most kids walk without a fear Friends dying is the norm, so they walk without a tear Rather tat it on their face – to who's? Wait While the old head is yellin' "it's never too late" [Outro] Too late, too late, too late, too late Too late, too late, too late, too late Too late, too late, too late, too late Too late, too late, too late, too late Too late, too late, too late, too late Too late, too late, too late, too late [Part 2: Monday's Worst] [Hook] It's never too late to get your values straight Can you believe me, baby? It's never too late to get your values straight (No, no) Do you believe me? [Verse 1] Heater on the dresser, stomach growling I'm thinkin' "how can I make some dollars within the hours?" It's funny how them hunger pains to your rib Can turn a decent kid to doing a bid Over stick-ups, nothing come, so screw the consequences I'll throw this black hoodie on, walk into this kitchen Grab my keys and my phone, call my mans to see if he's with it But he didn't pick up, I guess I'm on a solo mission Times hard, my God, I can't even lie A 9-5 is not what I'm tryna do to survive I'm thinking while on the hunt,  Somebody 'bout to stumble out of this club drunk Without having that chain tucked 'Bout to get that fucking chain took, nigga [Hook] It's never too late to get your values straight Can you believe me, baby? It's never too late to get your values straight (no, no) Do you believe me? [Verse 2] Yeah – in the club, chain hanging, swinging, wow Baby moms is sending texts and sending threats, like "Where those payments?" On some deadbeat dad shit, "I hate you in the worst way,  Spend money on Rosé, instead of your son's birthday" Mad quick, I told her "Hold up, hold up, be there tomorrow" Then went back up to the bar to get another glass and a bottle Okay, can't let her ruin my high tonight, not alright Plus I pulled this chick – with every sip, she's looking more and more like the model type "Ayo, lets leave," I take her, reach for my keys I'm stumbling out the door, looking for my car on the street 'Til I see this black-hood wearing, staring nigga tryna stick up Shots go off, I fell victim, damn... It's too late [Hook] It's never too late to get your values straight Can you believe me, baby? It's never too late to get your values straight (no, no) Do you believe me?