Broke asses

[Verse 1]
They hand out stretched, same story on repeat,
Swear on they mama, they'll pay you back next week,
Friday’s a myth, like a unicorn's mane,
They vanish in the wind, when the moneys all drained,
Friday's just a mirage in their desert of broke,
Every week the same line, the same tired joke,
Swear they drippin' with the hustle and grind,
But can’t find a dime when it’s repayment time,
Chains on their neck, fresh kicks on their feet,
But your texts stay ignored, man, rinse and repeat,
When they pockets runnin' low, they be knockin' on ya door,
Beggin' for a loan, actin' like ya bros for sure,
Every excuse rehearsed, a script that never change,
Their pockets full of nothin', and yours feel the strain.
[Chorus]
Same line, same game, just a different day,
“Pay you back on Friday,” words they like to say.
They ghost ya like a phantom when the clock strikes due,
But show up like Houdini when they need somethin’ new.
[Verse 2]
Yo, they knockin’ on my door, palm outstretched for a loan,
Promise every time, swear they’ll pay what they owe,
"Friday, I got you," words slick as cologne,
But come the weekend, man, their number’s a ghost zone,
"I’ll pay you," yeah, I heard it before,
Promises piled high, now I’m lockin’ my door,
They out here schemin’, stackin’ lies on the table,
Tellin’ tall tales like they writein’ a fable,
They keep diggin’ deep, but my pockets ain’t a store,
nah, now ya ain’t fallin’ for it no more,
No IOUs, no more free trips,
"Friday’s a lie," man, be done with this script.
[Chorus]
Same line, same game, just a different day,
“Pay you back on Friday,” words they like to say.
They ghost me like a phantom when the clock strikes due,
But show up like Houdini when they need somethin’ new.
[Bridge] 
They pockets like a vacuum, they'll suck ya dry,
Say they need a little help, but it’s all a lie.
Gold-plated excuses, dripping with finesse,
Yet your wallet stays slim, now you're cleaning up the mess.
[Verse 3]
Lendin’ out ya paper, ya never see it come around,
They livin’ like they kings, you're the jester with the crown,
Callin’ ya their savior, till your drained and dry,
Friday’s just a fable, truth’s a bold-faced lie,
Trust is a currency, theirs counterfeit,
They print checks, but they ain’t cashing it,
They pulling up with stories, tales so tragic,
Swear they Houdini, but their tricks ain't magic,
hand outstretched, story rehearsed,
Pockets empty, but they spit that verse,
Yo, "bro, I got you," they spit with a smirk,
But ya done with this cycle, tired of the work.
[Chorus]
Same line, same game, just a different day,
“Pay you back on Friday,” words they like to say.
They ghost me like a phantom when the clock strikes due,
But show up like Houdini when they need somethin’ new.
[Chorus]
Same line, same game, just a different day,
“Pay you back on Friday,” words they like to say.
They ghost me like a phantom when the clock strikes due,
But show up like Houdini when they need somethin’ new.

rap, trap, gritty, male