(Damn, you went Beats Mode on this one)
Bro told me fuck 'em up, been going up since he said it
I can't entertain her texts but I read it
(Pablo, you crazy for this one, haha)
Yeah
Bro told me fuck 'em up, been going up since he said it
I can't entertain her texts but I read it
Pockets itching for that money and fetish
Say pockets itching for that money and fetish
In that field, bro throw a play, I'ma catch it
Make some money, that shit made me some leverage
Now they on me, tryna send me a message
Left all the fakes back with the leeches and peasants
Hit the gas, in the coupe with my main bitch
Figures change but I swear I ain't change shit
Drop the top, I pop my shit when it's brainless
Plastic Glocky but my bro keep a stainless
Rap nigga know when I see him, he chainless
I watch my back 'cause these niggas be dangerous
Knife on the Glock, I pull up tryna blade shit
I'm on my shit and we not on the same shit
Still that lil' nigga from back then, I just got packs in
And I been eating like Pac-Man
He tried to run, blow his back
Bro got a MAC-10, we laying him down like a mattress
Took out the drama, bro, racks in
Look at my fashion, I'm rocking Dolce Gabbana
They know that we never had shit, I ain't gon' cap shit
Slept on the floor with my momma
L.A., I ball like a Laker
Ain't tryna miss when I shoot so my gun got a laser
I'd prolly fuck 'fore I date her
She know I'm Flow and I came in this bitch with some paper
FN on my hip for a hater
Jumped in that water with snakes and piranhas and gators
They prolly made us
He gave his all to a bitch that be fucking my brothers
Please, save him
Bro told me fuck 'em up, been going up since he said it
I can't entertain her texts but I read it
Pockets itching for that money and fetish
Say pockets itching for that money and fetish
In that field, bro throw a play, I'ma catch it
Make some money, that shit made me some leverage
Now they on me, tryna send me a message
Left all the fakes back with the leeches and peasants
In my feelings, go and lock in the booth
Don't wanna a lot, she know I just wanna the truth
When you tryna win and you destined to lose
Just keep on trying 'til you get you some blues
Know these niggas couldn't trot on my shoes
I act like I'm cool but really I'm through
Fed up with all these niggas who be pocket watching
And these niggas who watching my move
I ain't gon' fake, I been in my bag
And they know that
And we the youngest niggas
Leaving niggas stretched out like a door mat
Yeah, yeah, they hate that I'm popping my shit
Yeah, yeah, on granny, yeah, yeah
I keep pouring up fours
My bro tryna tax for the lows, we still get 'em gone
I bring my stick on the road
Just when they think I'm alone, I up it and blow
I know some shit they don't know
But if I speak on the shit, that'll mean that I told
Bro put a beam on the pole
He up this bitch and red dot landing straight on your nose
Bro told me fuck 'em up, been going up since he said it
I can't entertain her texts but I read it
Pockets itching for that money and fetish
Say pockets itching for that money and fetish
In that field, bro throw a play, I'ma catch it
Make some money, that shit made me some leverage
Now they on me, tryna send me a message
Left all the fakes back with the leeches and peasants
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