LEAVE HIM (feat. Mannyman & SNICKS)

Yeah

Tap me back in this bitch

We ain't gone say none

(Reuel stop playing with these ****)

We none like you lil peon ass ****

We really steppin on shit (know i gotta eat yeah)

We can't speak on it, but you know we livin it bitch Yeah

**** playing and we tearing up the streets

Put it all up in the line yeah you know i gotta eat yeah

**** pussy pillow talkin in the sheets

Tryna knock me off my grind

They can't take me off my feet yeah

Bad vibe and y'know she a freak

Put her in a black Benz

Say goodbye to that Jeep yeah

FN if yo mans wanna reach

We gone sit his ass down

Let that FN teach yeah

I cannot lie i'm the one they wanna be him

Pull up all up on the line

And my shooters play no defender

Designer book bags and you know that shit reakin

Lil shawty bad and i swear she's puerto rican

Had that bitch on her knees like a deacon

We gone light his ass up like a beacon

I told my **** Polo roll up cause he tweakin

He the type to stretch shit for no reason

Four pockets full gotta knot for each season

These **** out here telling lies

Nah we ain't beefin

We quick to get a **** fried

Gimme a reason

My **** all designer high know they be tweakin

I told her look me in my eyes

Know imma demon

Some **** want to switch sides we had to leave him

These **** out here crying wolf

We don't believe them

No we don't really give fuck we don't need him

Shit we really beat the odds fuck getting even

Keep on getting blessed from God like i was sneezing

Free motivation on these beats get to preachin

We leave a pussy boy deceased if he tweakin

Really made a way up out these streets

Right out that deep end

Brodie gotta switch up on his glock

He playing defense

I put my all up on the line make sure we feastin

In my prime like old school Lebron

I'm undefeated

And my pockets filled ****

I aint talking wheat thins

Told lil bro to chill ****

Only spin on weekends

Don't tell me you fo real ****

All these **** pretend

I got tints in the wheel ****

Brodie gotta heat sense

Don't get smacked like you Will ****

All that lil sweet shit

Brodie gotta mac we ain't talking bout no geek tech

I ain't even sip my act ****

I ain't even geek yet

Running through a lot of cash

I ain't even sleep yet

Fuck a semi we keep automatics

(But it's automatic)

I put M's on my shawty bitch

Like a 4-Matic

Tell em go ahead and add it up

Like it's mathematics

I've been ballin but it's April ****

Like it's March Madness

Imma run it up ain't lookin back

(Like the marshalls done had it)

Go ahead and pick him up

(Why you **** grab it)

She starin up and lookin down

(Like she look the saddest)

Tell yo bitch go and move around

I ain't no damn magnet

Fuckin thots and blockin shots like i'm Kur Kuath

I was made to make a billi on my first breath

Used to get my white T's out at Kirkland

Now i'm laid back inna Rolls Safari curtains

How the fuck you in the club when yo kid hungry

Glock 27 with me like i'm Todd Gurley

Gave her right back to the streets

She was not worthy

I ain't trippin bout no beef

We was not worried

Gave bro a clean glock

Brought it back dirty

Had to tell that fiend stop

You is not sturdy

Fell asleep on clean wok

But i'm up early

Gave that boy like 30 shots

But i'm not curry