Tekst Utworu

Okay my city say they love me but lowkey they really hating How you talkin' shit behind my back I think they wanna be me You ain't puttin' in no fuckin' work lil bitches act discretely Always tryna get a handout bitch you goofy out here meechin' If you ain't finnessin' the game just know you gonna get finessed No I'm not talkin' about robbin' his ass for a petty check This shit is so damn easy cuz I'm smart it ain't a threat Real talk I get it how I live it bitch you better come correct I'm speakin' facts no printer Knock on wood ain't get a splinter And my heart is icey cold just like Chicago in December I'm with homies ridin' deep Talkin' slick put you to sleep And I never break a sweat because you bet I got that heat I got that cake because I'm sweet Don't even ask me for a piece You ain't struggle with me How the fuck you think you get to eat I come from trappin' in the street You come from 40 hour weeks Man I don't fuck with 9-5s I bet your mind is really weak Fuckin' with me We breakin' a bag Ain't much else to say I don't gotta brag Telephonin' my main And we both get a laugh Then sit back and relax thinkin' damn that was fast Bitch double take before you sneak Can't get a favor if you random Swear to god she think it's sweet Kicked out the whip and now you stranded If you ain't finnessin' the game just know you gonna get finessed No I'm not talkin' about robbin' his ass for a petty check This shit is so damn easy cuz I'm smart it ain't a threat Real talk I get it how I live it bitch you better come correct Got all this pressure on me But you bet I'm bout to make it I ain't backin' down from nothin' Bitches out here tryna fake it Bitches out here tryna take it Then pretend like they ain't hatin' Hate to break it to you baby I'm here for good don't be mistaken Cash out every fuckin day How you still waitin' to get paid You still sittin' on your ass There's all this money to be made But I forgot that you a lame Boring as fuck and it's a shame These bitches never get the picture Only cropped out of the frame You think that it's a fuckin' game Lemme remind you I don't play If I say it I'ma do it Already know you can't relate Bitch I put a1 on my steak You pop shit in the microwave Ain't shit ass bitches always got somethin' to say If you ain't finnessin' the game just know you gonna get finessed No I'm not talkin' about robbin' his ass for a petty check This shit is so damn easy cuz I'm smart it ain't a threat Real talk I get it how I live it bitch you better come correct (bitch)
Writer(s): Alexandra Fastuca Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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