Lyrics

I'm chilling, everyone else problems ain't my business Y'all laughed in my face when my dad died, I ain't tripping Sipping on slurricane so I don't feel a damn thang A nigga so weird, can't even be apart of a gang Sticking for chicken, in a farm, I get to picking Took his shit, flip his shit, extra seasoning for the licking Don't got time trynna kick it with bums who rob for crumbs Dumb that intrigued by drums, I just speak from the love That I got for rapping, moves that I do include jacking Relaxing, macking shortys without using my backhand and I'm cool with dudes that from LA to Baltimore Fuck you thought, nigga tripping let bullets rip through your corduroy Weirdos I avoid, good vibes I enjoy Mom mad as fuck, don't know why I'm unemployed But soon I'ma send bands to her account without a doubt She gonna be rich while you complain about a drought Quadjay doing shit Smart shit, stupid shit I can't lie, that guy is the lucky lunatic Yea nigga yeah I'm all that I'm the type to sell you a key of flour and never call back Your mans wanted to do something He knew to fall back 30k is bigger than the average lost What you call that Damn... It's finesse season Fuck what everyone else talking about This the best season Nigga ain't bless me like last time So that's the best reason Try to say he know it's me Now his head leaking Could've been pistol whipped But he got shot You ain't a Superhero Why you go for the glock Fuck that nigga, search the wall For that soft spot Tap after tap, one punch Nigga jackpot The town can't have kingpins Prefer robbing the plug How you from Tulsa Still nowhere close to being a thug After pre-k was through You started seeing me with guns Know nigga that ran to Texas Scared of seeing they son See a Lex on the street We know who with the work Situation dirty Snatching bricks out the bitches skirt Try to jump off the porch Face first hit the dirt The town hot Police be having sleepovers on 61st Caught in a slumber That fucked up my summer So now it's winter, I'm hitting licks and I'm pulling bitches numbers Nigga talk shit but I never stress it Still connected Well respected, North to South, Peoria street reppin
Writer(s): Johnathan King Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out