Dead Vines

Alright, this is uh, the song I've been working on, it's new There's dead vines in a twine on a rusty old paint-chipped fence I'm trying to make it make sense, the muddy waters seem dense The first steps bring stress, road designer, phone ringing That's my future baby mama, bitch bad as a karma I usually take all bitches garments off when they slide on my bed With them coats from outside, no suck, my daddy gave it to him straight And to this day I'm the exact same way, in these weird times I had to get myself an Uzi and my brother Renan Whatever happens is fine, we ain't stressed, niggas sippin' this wine With the dollars we investin' this time And we ain't never asked for you to say shit Just leave this off your fuckin' playlist Niggas is plaintiffs like bitches complainin' Pitchin' me gainin', flipped my last couple dollars remainin' We maintainin', still faintin', the dog food make you feel the jazz It's like lean without the taste in his eyes I used to say fuck it, now I find myself chasin' this cash It's shorty can't eat no bugs, rather catch a loop, fuck a juke I rub bows with crooks, when they was tenin' you could tell them That they soon become businessmen My nigga dropped a pale crack when he took his soul back My nigga dropped a pale crack when he took his soul back So I ain't bad, bring it back A long way from K to Cadillac It's blown stress and it's CTS We stealin' mad shit from CVS Mad shit from CVS