Hold On (Don’t Wanna Talk About Nothing)

Lyrics

[Intro] Niggas, they mad, 'cause they wanna talk to me, but on the real, I don't wan' talk about nothin' (Shh, yeah) Niggas, they mad, 'cause they wanna talk to me, but on the real, I don't wan' talk about nothin' [Chorus] Niggas, they mad, because they wanna talk to me, but on the real, I don't wan' talk about nothin' Turned into something, these niggas not like my niggas, they be bluffing I let the Glock talk and I just get to bussin' My gun's in the oven They whip up the pot 'til that shit start to bubbling I split it, don't front it, your bitch, I don't want it I'm not with the cuffing, I fuck 'til she bussin' (Yeah, uh-huh) [Verse] I'm not with the cuffing, I fuck 'til she bussin' (Yeah, yeah) They said I was nothing, I turnеd into something I fucked this bitch right at her spot, but I pullеd up with my gun 'cause you know I still do not trust it Sun Kiss, a Buggy, my 'Rari, a bucket My passenger pretty like lil' Toyota Lucky I cannot stop going in, this shit too easy, gotta believe me Your girl on me, she keep calling, like, "Feed me" Pussy too wet, I need to get a squeegee I just may Wonder, because my new name is Stevie That's the reason why these niggas can't see me Diamonds they dancing all the way on the TV I'm swagging, I'm fashion, got Marni on Marni Rep the [?] of a barbie Cut open the square, that's a pear, iCarly I tried to think, "Who is my favorite artist?" Me, myself, don't forget one of them Martians I fucked that ho' and then I made her heartless That's what she get for trying to make me the target Told her to, "Suck up this dick," on some heart shit Don't miss my shot, I got aim like a marksmen (Yeah, okay) Drugs took his mind, then he turned into a narcissist I got so high that I talk to the Martians My bitch on fire she look like an arsonist Knock that boy out like my whip, then I park it Bitch, I'm an artist, I signed up for Parsons Trap down in South Park, my pocket, like Cartman I'm sipping Lean and she give me a heart lift Mix it in lemonade (Yeah) [Chorus] Niggas, they mad, because they wanna talk to me, but on the real, I don't wan' talk about nothin' Turned into something, these niggas not like my niggas, they be bluffing I let the Glock talk and I just get to bussin' My gun's in the oven They whip up the pot 'til that shit start to bubbling I split it, don't front it, your bitch, I don't want it I'm not with the cuffing, I fuck 'til she bussin' (Yes)