Lyrics

(PBell) (Euphoric, this you?) E for effort, either go hard or go home I'm mad as hell right now, and I'm off fuckin' X gone Get game from elders, you respect 'em, you gon' live long But everything ain't factual, so nigga, don't get led wrong Let's talk about it, I been geekin' so much, I can't sleep We take catnaps, sleep for the dead, and, bitch, I ain't deceased Like what's defeat? You got a purpose Either with us, or you up for each It's purposeful and purposely impersonal, you fuck with me They came for me oncе, it turned out bad, let's bring them guns out Donе been a problem, Apply pressure, make you bring them funds out I run with killers who don't stop hittin' until it run out He 'bout his issue, typin' on Twitter, we chalk your son out I ain't tryna talk with niggas, A-N-T-I Social what I am, my head low, but keep my eyes wide Ears always open, slippers count I won't be that guy Who fall victim to that pistol nigga, so I keep mine Straight out that North, but buried my heart on the Eastside We deploy the issue, my niggas gon' let that heat fly Got one chance, pussy nigga, ain't no three times Think twice before you roll them dice 'cause it's no rewind Tell 'em bring it on then, I just mix the pain with meds Voices in my head, the talk is critical, I'm on edge Like fuck it, I might tell my niggas get you Better not show your hand For any nigga try play on my mental, we gon' blow his ass Stoolies got too hot, so we in rentals, never show the tag Get up close on niggas, talkin' so close like it's shoulder tag Come through truckin' shit with micro, hit opps with no shoulder pads Might call my nigga Steeze We caught your mans and then we stole his ass If he catch the biggest hat for me, I'ma promote his ass Them boys done wasted so many racks on me, I already know they mad Whenever I'm in the city, I'm out East, come and spend your last I can't seem to get my mind off Leeke, he was livin' fast Bro just copped the SRT, so please don't make 'em hit the gas That's a hell Glock, hit every block, bitch come through shootin' fast Come in first, 'cause if you two, you last I'ma get you worst like I gotta do you bad Why he always rap about how he on Percs? 'Cause I can afford the habit Even though I'm on the third floor, I hear the door tappin' Paranoia, I can't trust a soul, I think my bros at me Another opp bitch in my DM, they send their hoes at me My own niggas tryna act like they ain't fans, but at my shows rappin' Tell 'em bring it on then, I just mix the pain with meds Voices in my head, the talk is critical, I'm on edge Like fuck it, I might tell my niggas get you Better not show your hand For any nigga try play on my mental, we gon' blow his ass Stoolies got too hot, so we in rentals, never show the tag Get up close on niggas, talkin' so close like it's shoulder tag Come through truckin' shit with micro, hit opps with no shoulder pads Might call my nigga Steeze We caught your mans and then we stole his ass
Writer(s): Jacourey Rivers, Alex Deaton Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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