Too Late Ft Jim Jones Lyrics | French Montana

Dipset, Coke Boys
Something epic, you know
French, what up? BX, what up?
Harlem, what's bangin'?
𝙇𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙜, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙨
𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙤𝙩, 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙨
𝙎𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩, 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚?
𝙄𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚?
𝙄𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚?
𝘾𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙄 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜

Through the fire, right through the fall
Big bag like Santa Claus
New sauce for the summer sauce
Marching band, we the drummer boys
And tell the crib I'm on the way back
Walked to my goals, took the plane back
And they prayed he ain't came back
All Rocky like A$AP
Indecisive, persuasive, face lift
Top down, ageless, timeless, stone age
Running out of patience, serving up the patients
No navigation, grind like bad brakes
Eating lobster with the crabs, that's the bad taste
Same niggas on the rise to find the bad days
Niggas on the rat race
Same niggas laughing at us started laughing with us
'Cause all the slammed doors turned to Lamb Porches

𝙄𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚?
𝙄𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚?
𝘾𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙄 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜
𝙄𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚

If nobody died then it's not a beef (Facts)
Contrary to all the lies, we all got beliefs (As-salamu Alaykum)
Still keep it in my rider in my boxer briefs (Loaded)
Hood nigga got them yachts docking by the beach (LA, what up?)
They still treat me like a god when I'm in the H (Harlem)
Cut lawyers that eat the charge like a dinner plate (Yanna)
We was just ducking them charges on the interstate (Facts)
Watch fifty that's an extra twenty large in the face
We both getting money, that is not the issue (You hear me?)
I'm trying to find my woosa like some chakra crystals (Pray for me)
Still hit a nigga with a tec but I ain't got a whistle
Slide through the wake, make sure your mom's a box of tissue (Kleenex)
We gon' hit whoever rocking with you (Who)
Catch your ass in Houston, shoot you, make sure you got rockets with you (Nero, what up?)
We come home and get a welcoming committee
When you fuck niggas you ain't welcomed in your city

𝙄𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚?
𝙄𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚?
𝘾𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙄 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜
𝙄𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚

If you tell me you get money then it shouldn't be able to fit in your pocket, nigga
My money can't fit in a bag so what type of bag you niggas is gettin'?
We drinking Ace and Ciroc all night, you heard
I been a bad boy, tell Diddy I been selling that Danity Kane to get that dirty money, you heard me money
French, what's up? Bx, Harlem