Bennett, Taylor - Everything I Can't Handle Lyrics

Look
Soon as I glow up I need jeans that cost five thousand
I need a new private jeweler to send me pictures of new shit
I need that Gucci connection
I need to fuck my own tutor
I need to call up the homies and ball so hard while we losin'
I could call up to Jordan and tell him mama wore Puma's
Tell 'em endorse my albums and if they don't then they ruined
Want a skyscraper, no no more favors
Make me sleep better, want my mink sweater
Don't wanna get back to nobody, just wanna eat better
Wanna do better, want my ice wetter
Want my wife cheddar, fuck a pre-nup
Nigga 'cause if we blood, and we cous'
Then we good
Eat up, while we kick our feet up
That's it
How dare you lose this gift, I made you to make a man
To make amends and spend this money on coked out bitches
Bottles of elegance is relevant, than what's the point of melanin
All these lies of tellin', retellin' resellin', sell again
Nigga if it's heaven or earth than tell me what's in the end
Darkness and abysses, obituaries that's never said
Block boys never reaching tabloids or tablets
Never closed cases, but always for closed caskets
And you want a number one while a mother's son lungs gaspin'
Let's take it back, and yo' little scummy ass ain't have a dollar
And yo' daddy done left yo' momma on the South Side of Chicago
And you was contemplatin' suicide
'Cause why the fuck was you alive
I gave music, I gave paper, than I put your ass on papers
You wrote "Dancing In The Rain"
When you ain't had no plans to play it
Now you won, a major making
Put your program in the matrix
Bottle copping, pussy popping
Treating women like an auction
Gave you everything that you window shop for inside that office
Taylor Bennett can you resort to service this Sunday?
I know you think that you got it
But God, it keep giving me something
Tell 'em that you're bisexual, especially intellectual
Preferably moving decimals, destiny so perpetual
A rapper professional and treat microphones like confessionals
Until you're and extra-terrestrial, this is more than a blessing, son
You know you ain't grow up on a runway
Momma put church on Sundays
My sundowns sat down, no [?]
My homework done, still no fun play
No iPhones, iPads, or nothing more integrated
Discussions, I should have grown up in D.C
Just more and more about nothing
My inspiration was hustling
Finessing dope from a customer, I'll say
My intuition lacked the vision of what I imagined
Staring deep distance at the light while the tunnel collapsing
And I got both hands up, like don't shoot
That's a black nigga's daddy
From what I've seen I've got my eyes on that one takin' prize
Being rich, black in America when I'm 25
'Cause if you come from where I come from that's a feast for sore eyes
'Cause if you came from where I came you in jail or you died
I like to light another instant and instantly vibe
And then that stray had found its way, and you instantly die
That was back in '05, now little bro, big bro had been died
No AK's, ladies, babies on daily's make me crazy
God don't hate me, I'm just lazy
I don't try, 'cause if I try then I might fail and then they'll hate me
I don't ask for what's not handed
I want everything that's granted
I just want it, I don't plan it
Room for unexpected damage
I want money, I want camera's
Everything that I can handle