KOTA The Friend Morocco Lyrics

Rented out a bnb out somewhere in Morocco

Hidin’ from the world I be feelin’ like El Chapo

Heard you got a main girl chillin’ in Chicago

I be like “no comment” and I hit ’em with the uzi

Independent yeah I get it standin’ on my two feet

Jackin’ that you know me but the truth that you knew me

Takin’ hour showers I be feelin’ like I’m boujee

Now I take my shawty out to dinner in the A

Look at struggle in her the face, keep my money in the bank

And watch you pull in the wraith Momma told me “don’t be stupid”

I can tell her fate, she just wants you for the clout

Told her “I’ma need my space” she gon’ make you look goofy

I, with my slippers when I drive, I be cozy on the road

I do business in the sky, never had to sell my soul

I don’t ever gotta lie, if you didn’t see it then, do not hit my line hoe

Money stacked on a hook, reel it

Goin’ blind seven books, deal it

Vans on my mattress, chillin’

Henney on the last drip, kill it

Shock clock, runnin’ I pull up like oh

Curry at the half-court, clutch like woah

I be, I be on the block tryna live my life

Can’t nobody come up off of me I’m broke

I’m on the land with it, land with it

Hit a lick and mind my damn business, damn business

Catch a break and hit the fam with it, fam with it

Life is callin’ are you answerin’ (Yes)

I ain’t never been to Morocco

But I’ll probably go after this shit drop though

Young Tobi flaco, harder than a pot hole

If you hear me on it, it’s a motherfuckin’ bop though

Got a spanish bitch and she love to make me tacos

Smokin’ cannabis in the mornin’ like Alanzo

Deep in the throat, like I’m takin’ out her tonsils

Modern life like Rocko, Rocko

That was kinda corny but your baby mama love it

So she probably gunan say it at my show, she know every word

Like she wrote it, that’s a fuckin’ poet, I just met my quota

I’m out here with Kota

Money stacked on a hook, reel it (Yeah stack it)

Goin’ blind seven books, deal it

Vans on my mattress, chillin’

Henney on the last drip, kill it

Shock clock, runnin’ I pull up like oh

Curry at the half-court, clutch like woah

I be, I be on the block tryna live my life

Can’t nobody come up off of me I’m broke

I’m on the land with it, land with it

Hit a lick and mind my damn business, damn business

Catch a break and hit the fam with it, fam with it

Life is callin’ are you answerin’ (are you answerin’)