[Intro] Respect expensive as fuck. Funny part? You can buy it over and over... and still don't own shit. Yeah. [Hook] Ain't no receipt for respect, Spent too much and still ain't own it. Everybody love your name till another nicka louder on it. Ain't no receipt for respect, No refund for all that stress. I paid cash, blood, sleep and time... and still had to prove that shit again. Respect. Respect. That motherfucker charge interest. You can own the whole damn block and still rent your reputation. [Verse 1] Used to think a feared name was the same thing as success. Walk inside, room get quiet, young me thought that shit was respect. Nah. Some of them were scared. Some were plotting. Some wanted my seat. Some smiled like, “That's my brother,” whole time measuring my feet. Bought chains to look established, bought cars to make a statement. Whole neighborhood said, “He up.” Bank account said, “Nicka, patience.” That's another fucking scam: Looking rich for broke observers. Spending thousands on appearance for some people with no purpose. But respect? That shit worse. Respect got endless maintenance. One rumor make them question you. One loss create impatience. One nicka test you publicly, now everybody watching close. And if you don't react dramatic? Suddenly you “ain't that” no more. So what the fuck did I purchase? Nothing. Just pressure in designer. Built a throne out of gasoline then wondered why the room got fire. [Pre-Hook] Fear gotta be renewed. Respect built different. One needs demonstrations. One survives your absence. I learned late... but I learned. [Hook] Ain't no receipt for respect, Spent too much and still ain't own it. Everybody love your name till another nicka louder on it. Ain't no receipt for respect, No refund for all that stress. I paid cash, blood, sleep and time... and still had to prove that shit again. Respect. Respect. That motherfucker charge interest. You can own the whole damn block and still rent your reputation. [Verse 2] Saw a young nicka fresh out, whole hood treating him legendary. Six months later nobody answered. Now that shit ain't temporary? Prison made him look important till the novelty got old. That's the truth they never mention when they sell that street-code gold. Another homie got money, everybody called him “boss.” Soon as money slowed down, half those relationships got lost. Damn. So was it love? Was it loyalty? Was it status with a pulse? People treat you like your lifestyle, then call that shit “being close.” I stopped paying for applause. Stopped explaining every move. Stopped letting insecure men decide what I had left to prove. You think walking away is soft? Cool. You can think that from your couch. I'm going home to my family while you internet-beefing for clout. I know exactly what I'm capable of. That's why I don't need displays. A lion don't submit paperwork every fucking morning saying he brave. [Hook] Ain't no receipt for respect, Spent too much and still ain't own it. Everybody love your name till another nicka louder on it. Ain't no receipt for respect, No refund for all that stress. I paid cash, blood, sleep and time... and still had to prove that shit again. Respect. Respect. That motherfucker charge interest. You can own the whole damn block and still rent your reputation. [Beat Mute] Hold up. Ask the real question. Who respects you when you ain't useful? [Verse 3] Do your kids respect your presence or just pictures of your cars? Does your woman trust your character or stay because you hard? Does your mama sleep at night? Do your partners trust your word? Or does everybody know your nickname but nobody know your hurt? That's when shit got uncomfortable. Because my name rang bells outside, but inside my own fucking house I had relationships deprived. Got money for everybody. Time? Couldn't find a minute. Funny how the streets got all of me while family got what remained in it. So I changed what “respect” meant. Now it's contracts signed on time. It's my children seeing Daddy. It's my woman knowing mine. Mine meaning loyalty. Not ownership. Know the fucking difference. It's Mama saying, “I'm proud of you,” without fear inside the sentence. It's employees getting paid. It's my word matching my deeds. It's not whether some broke motherfucker thinks I'm gangster in the streets. [Bridge] Respect without peace? Too expensive. Respect without freedom? Bad deal. Respect requiring violence every month? That shit ain't real. If your reputation owns you, you ain't king—you just employed. Working overtime for strangers trying to keep an image buoyed. I quit that fucking job. [Final Hook] Ain't no receipt for respect, So I'm done buying what expires. Let them argue who's the toughest while I'm building something higher. Ain't no receipt for respect, But legacy leaves evidence. My family know exactly who I am. That's enough
