Luyện nghe bài hát On God

(I'm on LA time. 6am flight.) I figured i put out 'fore this shit dropped (P2). [?]

My got grams, my bitches got checks
Just counted hundred, you niggas look stressed
I'ma smoke a and break down the rest
Niggas iffy, got my glizzy, I just a vest
I pray to God I don't die tonight
We gon' make somebody cry
Them with you, they ain't ridin' right
Ain't got no time to hate on nobody, I got a
Bitch, I'm on the Forbes list for
Mazzetti or the Porche just to
Honestly, I could have niggas deals
Traumatized, I know how a corpse really
I stand your casket, make sure that you gone
We flocked and run in houses when home
If you put out a hit, they gon' copy song
If you me on a record, we follow you home
Uh, what it do? goodie?
I ain't got to pull it out, I throw this shit through my hoodie
I be on the with the fully, I got grams all in my pocket, gettin' jail calls from bully
30 side trappin', I'll never forget
on my side, forever gon' get cooked
Promoter with the Yolla, forever get booked
'em for that paper, whoever gon' get took
On God, threw my hood up on the freshman
niggas by me, I can't stand next to suckers
I found out Gucci got a leather bubble
Go to sleep with my chain on, I an extra cover
I'm the one in the Lex coupe, jump out in a suit
strings tied tight, run up, I'ma stretch you
The plug to call me, hung up like,