My on my sleeve Straight face when I Put the on the ice Edgar Allan up, lean on me The deuce, the Growed up too damn sucked me, I was 9
Stoned like a through gardens plants, nigga a botanist Soon as I get the Loud man, liquor Uber to the pussy, I'm Gucci on my in the Balmain No plan, movin' with no Wonder why I'm feelin' old cycle of trife, oh Plan on breakin' the 'Til lil' send me them nudes Then it's back to the titties and rolls Thank God for body God for bottle She a copy And she Smino Papi Gon' be for her game crackin' She a cluck the fuck now I'm on a roll No to butter you up
My on my sleeve Straight face I grieve Put the on the ice Edgar Poe'd up, lean on me The deuce, the Growed up too damn sucked me, I was 9
So I don't really to talk about my feeling in here Any, meeny, mo mo mo mo whiskey to spare? Emptied my bottle now she her tears Said lately she sitting on the mountain of fear Of May be I open up to yo inquisitions bout your people's and expect me to sit and listen And they don't like my ass I know, I my bad Big trouble in China She say can't kill a nigga wit kindness, heart lost on mixtape, dammit where did you find it? Opportunities knocking, walk you ass thru front door Put pride in your lymph nodes this world is so cut throat And a heart don't shit if you ain't using it
Yeah, (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, The Father, The The Father, The The Father, The