Ain’t Something Wrong

Lyrics

[Chorus: La Drake] Ain't something wrong I'm running these streets, I'm stacking my pay But I'm in a drug zone [Verse 1: JT the Bigga Figga] Relax your mind and let your conscience free And I'ma tell you how a player used to stack his G's Used to hit the strips with the fuckin' clips in my pocket Mind on mail, so change the powder into rockets Came up off an ozone, now I'm pushing boulders Off of doja on the flame with the rest of the soldiers Flipped my first bucket at the age of 14 A four-door Nova, thought my shit was too clean A young hustler tryna be like them G's My homeboy Fat Rat, The Stone and Tim B Can't forget about my homie Beeda Weeda We used to strike the buckets all the way to Cupertino Hot sunny day, man, the block was scorching Fools in them drop point-O's straight torching Sacks on top of sacks to get their buzz on And by the way, young player, you in the drug zone [Chorus: La Drake] Ain't something wrong (Ain't something wrong) I'm running these streets, I'm stacking my pay But I'm in a drug zone Ain't something wrong (Ain't something wrong) I'm running these streets, I'm stacking my pay But I'm in a drug zone [Verse 2: JT the Bigga Figga] Hustling over chillin' 'cause it ain't no time to kick it Never been a baller but I'm tryna stack a ticket Chopping down my O's, put my money on froze Slammin' Cadillac doors and on them multiple stoves It's just a dream, but dreams could be reality Put it in perspective, collective and check the salary Mandatory that I pop at you bustas, could never stop it Dwellin' in the lab and on the daily tryna chop it Monopolizing, enterprising, now in 1995 we're realizing That we got to do for self, so self is independent Stacking up all the pay and making wealth and feeling splendid Making G's, nigga please I used to hit the blocks to sell my rocks and roll up the green leaves Now I'm all about my fetti On the other side of the game and game tight and moving steady [Chorus: La Drake] Ain't something wrong (Ain't something wrong) I'm running these streets, I'm stacking my pay But I'm in a drug zone Ain't something wrong (Ain't something wrong) I'm running these streets, I'm stacking my pay But I'm in a drug zone [Interlude: JT the Bigga Figga] Yeah, I'ma send that out to my homeboy Travy Lo, to my young homie Pierre, to my OG Potna Rondo, to all the fallen soldiers, mayne One love, that's real [Verse 3: JT the Bigga Figga] Now fools think they can jump in the game And be an overnight star with money and fame I had to work for my status, got the baddest apparatus If you're paying your dues, then fa sho, you can have this Time'll tell, you might as well Come to the L-A-double-B and check your mail 'Cause niggas be clocking their grip but coming up and stacking G's Pulling up in the lab and on the daily with them R-A-P's Please take yourself and see and feel the beat 'Cause the flavor don't stop now, us players gon' clock now Represent the game because the game don't stop So you got to get your paper 'til it's time to pop [Chorus: La Drake] Ain't something wrong (Ain't something wrong) I'm running these streets, I'm stacking my pay But I'm in a drug zone Ain't something wrong (Ain't something wrong) I'm running these streets, I'm stacking my pay But I'm in a drug zone