Yeah
Fuck how you feelin', I'm feelin' great
Only pray for the real, hope they kill the fake
How he come from the bottom and wheel his weight
I just walked through the back and I'm feelin' safe
Gotta smoke 'cause these women be stressin' me
All the talkin' ain't never affectin' me
Makin' ??? roll up like the pedigree
They be wishin' it was 'em instead of me
Fuck you want me to do? Bitch, I work for it
To be gifted, you live with a curse for it
Problems I can't got to church for
So I don't got time for no hurt, ho
But I carry the team, I got back pain
City boys, she wan' fuck up the accent
Makin' candy, put sweet in my black paint
And this EV it don't got no gas tank
Too many shooters
Racks in the shoe box
Gotta make two stops
I got some new opps
Out in the nighttime
I want the blue dot
Out on the Westside
Feel like the new Pac
Fucked the bitch, got the burner on me
Think I see the police in my backyard
Muhfuckers, be lurkin' on me
Brand new spot on these niggas when the cash grow
Brand new spot and I stepped on the gas, ho
Twenty O for the merch in a good week
It gon' fuck with your head but we don't speak
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
