Saturday Mornings Songtext
von Cordae

Yeah, ay
(Ah-ah-ah)
(Ah-ah-ah) yeah, uh
Lord
(Ah-ah-ah) ay
Yeah

I′m dealing with a lot of problems, I know if y'all can relate
Feeling like Rod Wave, I got a lot on my plate
And I can really use a stress reliever
′Cause where I'm from they catchin' bullets like the best receivers

The chopper′s singin′ like Justin Bieber
The most effective leaders have closed mouths and open ears
Like the Nile, I can flow for years
I really got my own sneaker, used to shop at Sears
Rap niggas lying through their teeth though, these are not veneers

Skipping through the airport, but soon will hop on Lears
I conquer fears, running up them M's and drive my mama tears
I love Jim Carrey, but don′t fuck with yes-men
I need honest ears when in the studio


Turned down a movie role to finish the album
I pray the outcome is good
Clayton Bigsby, y'all done took a nigga out of the hood
Carrying water, chopping the wood
But you gon′ always have motion if the product is good

Lord knows, it's crazy how I can just text HOV
And run plays on the weekend, it′s more than just XO's
When I dropped my first album, was nervous, my chest froze
Plans gon' be executed like niggas on death row

Bought a new fuckin′ crib, but that shit is in escrow
′Cause my credit score low as my self-esteem, but I grow
It's a yellow beam when I glow
I have mellow dreams when I smoke
To my fellow kings, keep the hope
I thank Elohim that I woke up this morning

Actin′ wild like Black & Mild, we smoked the opponent
I prayed and hoped for this moment and if I post it, I own it
No cap for me, we get money like athletes
Like the eighth man on the Wizards, that's more of a match for me

If we being completely honest, me and the mic got chemistry
Boy, I got this down to a science, I promise you I ain′t lyin'
Get love in every borough, my niggas are very thorough
Wish a nigga would like Timmy, bro, send ′em to fairy world


Never wore a Jheri Curl like Mike Jack in the 80s
I might crash the Mercedes, my life flashed from a baby
I reminisce on the daily, my penmanship what ya pay me
It's time to get the bacon, this shit is biscuits and gravy

Time to break fast, to keep it real, how long the fake last?
New year, same goals, stay out the way and make cash
The competition, damn, we way passed
I need more real love and less fake laughs, huh

Just let it breathe
Let it breathe
(Now put your hands in the sky if you feel the vibe)
Yeah, let it breathe
(Now put your hands in the sky if you feel the vibe)
Just let it breathe

Uh
I need more real love and less fake laughs
I wear this mean mug like a facemask
She give me real love with that fake ass
It fit me like a glove, OJ hands

I'ma need a little love from your hatin′ ass
Real love, real love, Mary J. playin′
Need less yes-men and more amen's
I′ma need more real prayers and less praying hands

I'm smoking straight gas, no brake pads
You smoking Bubba dub, nigga straight trash
I get more camel toe than them Arabs
She deep throat the whole dick, but couldn′t take half

I take a nigga life before he take the stand
Take some drugs then take off, take some when I land
You standing on business, I'm a businessman
I′m a goat, nigga, you a sacrificial lamb

You a teddy bear, nigga, you a Teddy Graham
You sweet as jelly-jam, honey glazed deli ham
Bubblegum candy yams, my gun never jam
I got a heavy hand, but hold it like a Steadicam

Am I talking to the Martians when I pray, man?
I need to know is there a heaven or just Space Jam?
And it's Saturday morning every day, man
Young Carter and Cordae, man, all day, man

Why they playing?
Elvis has left the building, went to Graceland
And if it ain't a rip lag, then it′s a red flag
And if it ain′t mula, baby, then I ain't the dad
I need my haters scanned

Yeah, I need more hard drugs, less annoying plugs
I need the astronaut pack with asteroid buds
Blunt look like a rocket ship, yeah, we goin′ up
Coffee in a styrofoam cup

Good morning, it's Saturday