French Montana & Harry Fraud – Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts Lyrics

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts Lyrics by French Montana, Harry Fraud, & Chinx

Ebro, Laura, Rosenberg, French Montana is in the building (Haan, what’s up, what’s up?)
Morocco’s own, South Bronx’s own, what’s up, man?
Coke boy, baby (Nah, man)
Interviewin’ you is like De Niro or something (Nah)
You know what I mean?
Yo, you and Harry Fraud, that’s—
Yeah, that’s a deadly combo
Y’all hit home runs
Yeah, that’s a deadly combo, definitely
La musica de Harry Fraud

Closed casket, open parts (Ah)
Drunk words or sober thoughts (Ah)
Run the blocks like Eliud Kipchoge
Gotta renew my vows, they’re still married to the old me
Mirror what you admire, become what you respect (Uh)
Reflect what you desire, attract what you expect, uh (Uh)
Racks like Milbourne, I’m still torn (Torn)
Kill the steam, after the first body, the chill’s gone (Ah)
Wallace with the cane and the glasses
God dipped me in acid (Ah), NFT your casket
I was dreamin’ ’bout these millions flippin’ packs (Packs)
I had to learn emotions, was the enemies affects (Woo)
Had to jump out my feelings, ain’t no money there
Curved the potholes, waitin’ for me was a hunnid years (Skrrt)
Free Max, when God took Chinx, I cried a hunnid tears
From the crack hoes to a hunnid Ms, fuckin’ with me, not a chance

A guy that’s heatin’ up the New York scene right now
His name is Chinx Drugz
Yeah, Chinx is just a acronym for
“Coward Hearted Individuals Never Xist”
You know what I’m sayin’? So
Basically what that means is
If you scared to go ahead and get, you know what I’m sayin?
What God got for you, then you’re gonna lose out (Uh)

Coke Boys, new things what the people shouting (That’s right)
I made a living off of talkin’ ’bout dope and violence (Woo)
‘Fore that business get conducted, n****, show them dollars (Ayy)
You know my weight get deducted, Lucille Roberts (Uh)
New wheels drivin’ (Drivin’), n***** steady mobbin’ (Mobbin’)
We the flyest gangstas (Gangstas), your bitch pussy throbbin’ (That’s right)
Fifty grand rubber band, won’t get this in college (Nah)
With my man 50 Grand, that’s my n**** Dollars (Uh)
They pump fake, I put the jumper in the wind
Deal’s on the table, try negotiate another M (Another M)
They incoherent (‘Herent), do you hear me now? (Huh?)
My money get n***** touched, do you feel me now? (That’s right)
Few years mashin’ on ’em in the game
All that slick shit they talkin’, that ain’t nothin’ but a thing (Uh)
Thousand grams in the bumper, that ain’t nothing that but a thing
And that glare in your eye, that ain’t nothing but the chain (What?)

There is an aching in my head
From the bed I can’t get used to
It’s these little hours in the dark I dread
As I spend my first night alone without you
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