These Saturdays - Fudge, Michael Christmas, Pervana

Now I’m flying, soaring

Now I’m out

These Saturdays, these Saturdays

I feel like Young Joc

No more magic ooh ooh ooh

These Saturdays, these Saturdays

Yeah

Now I said back the fuck off of me, I’m drunk

These Saturdays, these Saturdays

Think I’m Paul McCartney, Kanye

These Saturdays, these Saturdays

Saturday morning, watching my new shit

Being a nuisance, mama might lose it

She be complaining that I ain’t do dishes

But I got cereal waiting and I got to get it

Criss-cross how I’m sitting

This Xbox ain’t stopping, this (?) juice hitting

And now when its Saturday morning I got me a headache from sinning

Parlay with police, don’t want go to prison

They pulled us over 'cause they think we niggas

They look for guns, all we got is some slippers

Searching for (?) like the biggest contender

Ey

Ey

Now I’m back at it, craftmatic

Wasn’t running, asthmatic

Saturday my ass napping

All defense on, ask Madden

Little ass nigga had to grew up quick

MTV jams, I seen screwed up click

If I go out Imma do dumb shit

Somethings won’t change and I knew that shit

They try and kill us, candy and soda

They pull us over, filling that quota

Mama be worried, I don’t be sober

She never lying, but it ain’t over