| All this pain got me going against myself
|
| I don’t do this for you niggas, bitch, I do it for the wealth
|
| Why would I trust you niggas? |
| Shit, I barely trust the ceilin'
|
| Rather fuck on your hoe and put that bitch all in her feelin’s, yeah
|
| Spinning and sipping, we be smelling the piff
|
| Pull up, hop out, and left his brains on the curb
|
| Bet he gon' understand, make you run on your pad
|
| For all that stunting that you doing, gon' make a nigga mad
|
| I’m money fiending every day
|
| It was me and Prynce in these streets, tryna find our way
|
| The closer that I get, the more these niggas turning fake
|
| It ain’t no pressure with that extra, keep my weapon
|
| I’m on this pussy like my nickname Dr. Jekyll
|
| I put the bitch made her put on my schedule
|
| I couldn’t save it, killed that pussy like a devil
|
| But we can lay up, you gotta pay me for that
|
| Bitch, I ain’t stupid, thinks I’ll lose it, I’ma up this toolie
|
| Shoot you like a movie, all my lil niggas young and they ruthless
|
| Dipping in the mazi, now they running and ducking the shooters |
| Ain’t no more talking, bitch, you domeless, end of confusion
|
| All this pain got me going against myself
|
| I don’t do this for you niggas, bitch, I do it for the wealth
|
| Why would I trust you niggas? |
| Shit, I barely trust the ceilin'
|
| Rather fuck on your hoe and put that bitch all in her feelin’s, yeah
|
| Spinning and sipping, we be smelling the piff
|
| Pull up, hop out, and left his brains on the curb
|
| Bet he gon' understand, make you run on your pad
|
| For all that stunting that you doing, gon' make a nigga mad
|
| I can’t be fucking with you niggas, y’all ain’t feeling my pain
|
| I’m fresh out them slums, don’t make me shoot off your brain, yeah
|
| I do this shit for New Orleans, I’m tryna fuck on yo' lil bitty bitch
|
| Put the dick all in her organs, then pass that lil bitch to my bro
|
| Oh, coach
|
| Yeah, can’t check my temp, bitch, I’m hotter than stoves
|
| Oh, make your lil bitch go wherever I go
|
| Yeah, make that hoe dope me up
|
| In the coupe with no roof
|
| I can’t fuck with you broke niggas, you think that leachin' shit cool? |
| I’m a motherfucking giant, like, «Who is these little dudes?»
|
| We gon' pull up, wipe that shit out then get right back to the move
|
| All this pain got me going against myself
|
| I don’t do this for you niggas, bitch, I do it for the wealth
|
| Why would I trust you niggas? |
| Shit, I barely trust the ceilin'
|
| Rather fuck on your hoe and put that bitch all in her feelin’s, yeah
|
| Spinning and sipping, we be smelling the piff
|
| Pull up, hop out, and left his brains on the curb
|
| Bet he gon' understand, make you run on your pad
|
| For all that stunting that you doing, gon' make a nigga mad |