Yea,yea,yea, yea

You **** ain’t really street man

You **** ain’t really street y’all only trap on instrumentals only time he seen a bag he wrote it down with pad and pencil if what yourapped was real u would’ve killed a 1000 **** threw a thousand grains of salt talking to hoes up on that pillow me on the other hand I’ma different type of **** every where I go I stand out **** and hoes be trynna figure your bitch was wondering too until I hit her wit dat pickle Ian even have to tell her she whispered to me you that **** before I got a rap check I was playing with 6 figures before I signed a deal I was a million dollar **** I’m straight out of mobile been fucking hoes and counting skrilla even back in elementary I was poppin like a pimple u

You can’t forget about me Ian gotta make a hoe remember but bitches always lying they reminding me of simba don’t to much get passed us she either fucked me or 1 of my **** a-lot of hoes got shared then turnt they mouth to baby sitters these **** cuffing hoes who be sucking dick on finsta They ain’t picture me like this so I start posing like it’s insta my pockets straight as hell but I like my hoes gay as Christmas a **** like me playa Ian gotta fuck her off no liquor that dick gone get her drunk gone tell her friends that I’m her **** but I’m committed to this paper done touched so much I’m counting splinters I’m quick to hit the road a 1000 bags up in a sprinter hell yea I just went shopping copped some for me and all my **** this trap shit in my blood my granny was out here flipping chickens this pimp shit in my blood got two uncles with twenty children I’m only stating facts can’t be lying how I’m living like I’m takin out the trash them bags flyin out the kitchen them **** wit me riding they be sliding like they drifting aye rip pc bitch you the only piece that’s missin every time I hear yo name I feel like u still wit me cuz u really still wit me ****

I know you still with me my dawg I feel you