Lyrics : Dominique Jones/Bryan Simmons/Tapaquon Sidney Malabre
Music : Dominique Jones/Bryan Simmons/Tapaquon Sidney Malabre
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
****'s low key, be depressed, while it look like I'm at my best
They know they don't want to beef with me
Owners wanna meet with me
Bad bitch, twelve hour flight to come and sleep with me
She like me 'cause I'm a real street ****
All I'm sayin' is when it pop, just keep it in the street, ****
Make a rapper take his clothes off, that boy a male stripper
Try to speak on me to throw it off, these **** still snitchin'
This lil' button on the back will show a **** how to switch up
Push up on 'em at the gym, I hope them **** doin' they push-ups
For a fact, you **** hoes, the city knows this ain't no diss song
They know baby won't respond, just say his name, so we can get goin'
Can't believe that boy went bold on me or told, oh, you pulled big stunts
They on go, and they recordin'
Speak on me for streams, bro, why the **** am I important?
You don't even know them **** you with, you gettin' extorted
You know this shit deadly for a fact, you picked your poison though
**** it, let's get to it, ain't no secret, shit ain't cordial no more
I ain't never wanted to speak on none of this shit
Tell the truth, these **** mad, I'm runnin' this shit
And naw, this not about that one boy
I'm talkin' 'bout that otha boy, and that otha boy, and that otha boy, and that otha boy too
Real ones know my body, I'm not talkin' to you
If you a **** boy that feel hit, I'm talkin' to you
Turn the virgil into a landaulet, I'm sick of the roof
You copy everything I do, lil' boy, I'm sick of you too
You actin' hard, you must've forgot that I stopped brodie from shootin'
Nobody know you till you came around, you really my junior, boy
Son-ass ****