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Kota the Friend – Morocco Lyrics

Morocco By Kota the Friend

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 bougie
Now I take my shawty out to dinner in the A
Look at struggle in her face, keep my money in the bank
And watch you pull in the wraith
Mama 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, ho

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 whoa
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 wit’ it, land wit’ it
Hit a lick and mind my damn business, damn business
Catch a break and hit the fam wit’ it, fam wit’ 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 the 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), Rocko (Rocko)
That was kinda corny but your baby mama love it
So she probably gonna 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 whoa
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 wit’ it, land wit’ it
Hit a lick and mind my damn business, damn business
Catch a break and hit the fam wit’ it, fam wit’ it
Life is callin’ are you answerin’? (Are you answerin’?)