I been workin’ at the grow house, slangin’ my shit,
trunk knock bangin’ while I’m back on my bullshit — wassup though?
I been gone for a minute,
made a bit of bread, now I’m ’bout to go and spend it on myself.
Yeah, and my baby girl too,
I been at the grow house, but homie, where are you?
I been low, I been tucked, I been paid, I been cool,
had to grow in the dark, and the room grew too.
[Verse 1]
I been workin’ where the lights don’t quit,
fans go dumb and the whole room lit.
Black gloves on with the smell on my fit,
legal-ass trap, still feel like a lick.
I was gone, I was low, I was out of the mix,
had to stack me a check, had to handle my shit.
Had to quit all the talk, had to learn what it is,
had to lose me a dream just to want it again.
Now the trunk go knock when I ride through town,
old friends pop up like, “you rap now?”
Bitch, I been had bars, I just backed down,
had to get some real life in the background.
Little bit of bread, little dirt on the boot,
little smoke in the air when I step in the room.
I ain’t rich yet, but I’m less confused,
and the fire came back with a bad-ass mood.
[Hook]
I been workin’ at the grow house, slangin’ my shit,
trunk knock bangin’ while I’m back on my bullshit — wassup though?
I been gone for a minute,
made a bit of bread, now I’m ’bout to go and spend it on myself.
Yeah, and my baby girl too,
I been at the grow house, but homie, where are you?
I been low, I been tucked, I been paid, I been cool,
had to grow in the dark, and the room grew too.
[Verse 2]
I ain’t flexin’ like I made me a mil,
but the rent got paid and the fridge got filled.
Baby girl smile when the bags get spilled,
I been through hell, now I’m back for real.
Plants in a row like they know my name,
I been talkin’ to ’em when I’m bored on break.
Like, “y’all grow slow, but y’all still get paid,”
shit, maybe I should probably do the same.
I don’t post too much, I don’t chase no clout,
I been hidin’ in work tryna air shit out.
Had a notebook full of smoke-stained doubts,
now I’m back in the booth with the bass turned loud.
Homie, where you at? I was right here grindin’,
right here trimmin’, right here survivin’.
Right here broke, then right here climbin’,
now the old me dead and the new me smilin’.
[Bridge]
Wassup though?
Trunk knock, windows up, smoke roll.
I was gone, had to duck low,
came back clean with the mud on my sole.
Wassup though?
Grow house glow on my cutthroat.
I quit once, but the love don’t,
fire came back like, “fuck no.”
[Final Hook]
I been workin’ at the grow house, slangin’ my shit,
trunk knock bangin’ while I’m back on my bullshit — wassup though?
I been gone for a minute,
made a bit of bread, now I’m ’bout to go and spend it on myself.
Yeah, and my baby girl too,
I been at the grow house, but homie, where are you?
I been low, I been tucked, I been paid, I been cool,
had to grow in the dark, and the room grew too.
izayah
