Rich Homie Quan - The Author lyrics | LyricsFreak
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The Author Lyrics

Rich Homie Quan – The Author Lyrics

[Intro]
The average person like Nard & B gon think this shit I'm talkin' bout made up or make believe or some shit, but nah man, this my everyday life dawg
Trenchwerk

[Chorus]
I got some stories I'm tellin' but they not made up
Don't try to dap me, just spare me, don't want that fake love
18 ain't know ‘bout no Rollie, wanted a Jacob
So when I tell you this story know they not made up
Keep on my chain when I fuck her, bae yeah we made love
It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up
I told my mama go get it because she know I got it
Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it

[Verse 1]
We just extra flexin' (yeah), hundred racks on a necklace (ohh)
First time I got booked in Houston, sold out show in Texas (sold out showing)
I couldn't make no money off this at first this shit was stressful (at first it was)
I was in these niggas face with my CD just like a freckle (aye, aye)
I was prolly leavin' the studio when they was on they way to breakfast
When they was prolly goin' to sleep, I was still up I was goin' extra
Right before the new Walmart, I was still on Gresham
I told myself never fall off, Quan you gotta do better
I do this shit in real life nigga, no make believe (no, no)
I was broke as hell growin' up, now fifty what I make week (yeah, yeah)
Rich in spirit that the way to be (rich homie baby)
These niggas cotton and I'm harder than 'em (that right too)
It's copywritten 'cause I wrote it, I'm the author nigga

[Chorus]
I got some stories I'm tellin' but they not made up
Don't try to dap me, just spare me, don't want that fake love
18 ain't know 'bout no Rollie, wanted a Jacob
So when I tell you these stories know they not made up
Keep on my chain when I fuck her, bae ya we made love
It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up
I told my mama, go get it because she know I got it
Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it

[Verse 2]
At the strip club, we at day shift, fifty thousand on my bracelet
Eight months I was savin', house so big no neighbors yeah
Tryna out ball my paper yeah, real life story not made up (nah)
In high school fuckin' hoes by Stephenson out by Decatur (fuck them hoes)
Smokin' by the cafeteria back near the gyms
Smokin' mid throwin' out the seeds and spittin' out the stems (spittin' out the stems)
Niggas tried to count me down so I had to bend the rim (I bent my act)
I remember mama house, recording, no engineer (hey, hey)
Remember when grandmama died, it hurt couldn't shed a tear
I swear I saw my mama cry, didn't know there'll be better years (I love you mama)
I try to put away my pride, no middle, face all my fears (nah real talk man)
We need a plate, don't try to starve us
Can't make this up when you the author (rich homie baby)

[Chorus]
I got some stories I'm tellin' but they not made up
Don't try to dap me, just spare me, don't want that fake love
18 ain't know 'bout no Rollie, wanted a Jacob
So when I tell you these stories know they not made up
Keep on my chain when I fuck her, bae ya we made love
It took eight months and a couple weeks just to save up
I told my mama go get it because she know I got it
Might buy the house I grew up in just to say I bought it

Trenchwerk
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Songwriters: Brandon Rackley, Dequantes Devontay Lamar, James Bernard Jr. Rosser
The Author lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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