Oh oh, oh oh, oh I'm a nineties baby In my eighties Mercedes Feel like a hard-to-get starlet when I'm driving Got them Ray-Ban shades pretty in pink Call me old school but hey It's Saturday night, about time to go Got my white leather jacket and a neon

And damn I feel alive Baby, damn I feel alive It's like something has to die To help you realize Damn I feel alive Rain is good for the soul Crazy how I feel the most warm when it's cold Drops hit the window and I drop down to the floor I assume this is

Can we go back, this is the moment So we put our hands up like the ceiling can't hold us Like the ceiling can't hold us Tonight is the night, we'll fight 'til it's over And all my people say Labels out here, nah, they can't tell me nothin' Tonight is the

I'ma show 'em how to act Everybody people, everybody bleed, everybody need something Okay I was gone for a minute but I'm back now Sit the fuck back down Seem like everybody nowadays Hollywood Oh it’s like that now? I'ma show you mothafuckas how to act

Narcotics on me, I be mad high Dressed in Bathing Ape, I be mad fly Savage sending hits like a wise guy I'ma sit in front the judge and tell a damn lie Nigga I be mad high, mad high, mad high Mad high, mad high, mad high, mad high Nigga I get mad fly,

Tell me where did it all go wrong Oh where did it all go wrong Like a question without an answer Like music without its dancers Like a bird without a song Like a frame without a picture Like God without a scripture Like me when I know you're gone

Up all night long And there's something very wrong And I know it must be late Been gone since yesterday I'm not like you guys I'm not like you Hey mom, there's something in the backroom Hope it's not the creatures from above You used to read me stories

This your favorite song And it's all Please tell me what you think happened Like this time, fuck it I woke up to like ninety-nine missed calls That's like ninety-nine people I probably pissed off Like damn, nigga, I was on a jail call Damn, niggas make

Can't get you out of my head Out of, out of my head Out of my headphones It's like the record stopped spinning And you're gone again and I'm stuck here alone I turn it up, you turn me on It takes me back It takes all night long

Niggas pistol popping like it's nineteen ninety nine I was nine maybe ten, then again never mind Press rewind, back in time before rappers dropping dimes Trap or die, choppin' pies with cliche's all in they rhymes That was Gucci, Prada and anything