Clairvoyant

Lyrics

[Verse 1: RLX & CRIMEAPPLE] Blow the patrol y mata la estada 40 piece hanging, fuckin' without my espalda Told shawty le tengo ganas (Nigga) You and ya' casa muy de malas Expeditions around the world spilin' brasa (Yeah) Feeling proper (Let's talk it up) You look dusty but you talkin' like you sellin' Tryna knock me off my level, I put hot shit in ya' melon Fresh as coffee out the creca Coughing of the pressure, I was rockin' on manteca Walk with me a second If you cross me, it's whatever, you just lost being forever What's the cost of gettin' several fucking Lord that feds the devil Pocket presidential Walk and left me dead and out my mental Lock it like a pick, pop you like a pimp When God sent me here, planned for me to find a God within me I want better years Standing on the mountain seeing clearly that we're never here That's why I keep it far, never near me (Nah, nah, nah) Dipped in better gear, I'ma keep it raw like I was chichi Your talk is cheap, we not believing, see you not deceiving, sheesh Nigga peeped and watching me, the block what I'm receiving Eat shit, will see the cards that I was dealing Long as I was breathing, we don't need to talk without a reason Hawking, y'all were creeping Call me, I ain't sleeping Strong around the season feeling like all the time weaken I'm always at the deep end with the sharks and the heathens Soaring through the ceiling, that ain't art, you were reaching (Yup) [Verse 2: TF] Sticks and stones, lotta spoon, that's a ceremony The bitch got high, said she was clairvoyant Paranoia set in Like thinking the SWAT team followed her to a dead end Race tracks hidden on her prayer hand tattoos I prolly walk a mile in 'em shoes (Walk a mile in 'em shoes) Now I'm plotting on the island I might go [?] cruise Win or lose, it's risky business word to Tom Cruise When I end up on the yard and turn the lime on full (Turn the lime on full) Uh I smell like Tom Ford in whores drippin' pussy juice Ninety minutes, watch me count up what a cookie do The whip tookie blue, I put that bitch in sport mode We're the big dogs, not the cane corsos, uh A single bullet leave yo' [?], adios ETS fitness that's the cardios, corrios I been the cone and niggas run off like the Maury Show That red rum one fifty-one Bacardi flow Killa Nigga Everything stainless, you bitch ass niggas [Outro: CRIMEAPPLE] Expeditions around the world spillin' grasa Feeling proper, big papa [?] monopolized Made lil' mama holler gossip about the condom size Split you up, nothing but particles, remarkable All my shit genuine article All ya' shit feminine friendly Soundin' like straight coco rap [?] tried suing to get the logo back Burn a logo on ya' fitted for frontin'