Lyrics

I can't lie, I'm influential Might just take off temperamental Had them youngins call me Flippa Fuck these hoes, ain't sentimental Got the bag, I made it triple Charge 'em, bussin' down it's simple Split them racks right down the middle Evil thoughts, Dracs' and Glocks Pounds of Percs, all in the spot Lil' bruh and them keep serving Fent', they made it hot Should I go to court today? Maybe not How you make it this far? I had to pray a lot When I'm 'round the police, I don't say a lot My white plug look like Austin Reaves My black bitch look like Jayda Cheaves She love to come, do birds and bees I'm traffickin', transportation fees Had to tat' my back and sleeves I fuck with the takers, but fuck the thieves This stick and compact is all I need They love to follow, I took the lead Damn, her body influential Never lack, I keep a pistol Killers, they'll shoot up your vigil Louis, compliments of Virgil Meant it, all I know is murder For real, I'll kill a burglar Fly as fuck inside the Givenchy I might just experience turbulence I'm clutchin' 'cause I'm paranoid Last night I read the art of war If you broke, what you talkin' for? Told the circle whatever's mines is yours Love the way she make it clap Love the way she throw it back She said, "Hold the range controller" I said, "Bae, I'm ready for it" Micro dose it, keep me goin' I can feel my blood flowin' On that vegan Oreo, I can feel my brain flowin' Me and Jroc chain-smoking Move, we'll bust your brain open Take some drugs to calm me down, I got PTSD I'm a king, so bend a knee I work hard, ain't nothin' free We gon' shoot, them niggas flee Paid eight hundred for the tee At the Gallows's straight from Bree They know money man a G I can't lie, I'm influential Might just take off temperamental Had them youngins call me Flippa Fuck these hoes, ain't sentimental Got the bag, I made it triple Charge 'em, bussin' down it's simple Split them racks right down the middle Evil thoughts, Dracs' and Glocks Pounds of Percs, all in the spot Lil' bruh and them keep serving Fent', they made it hot Should I go to court today? Maybe not How you make it this far? I had to pray a lot When I'm 'round the police, I don't say a lot
Writer(s): Tysen Bolding, Igor Mankushev, Warren Little Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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