My Soul

Lyrics

[Intro] (Taylor Michael turn it up) (Trauma Tone) [Chorus] I walk in the booth and I pour out my soul Sold all these P's to buy diamonds and gold If we talkin' G, then I'm fittin' the mold Bitch I'm the shit just like I'm a commode You comin' home with me, baby, come on What's all that hate for, lil' nigga? Come on I swear your silhouette turnin' me on Turn them bags on my artists, they get that shit gone These niggas ain't ballin', they injury-prone Had to cut this bitch off, she keep callin' my phone I make her scream, I make her moan I put the 2.5 inside of a cone Got her wet like a yacht on the beach in Miami You still see her ass through them pants and they baggy Got that pack on the way, I just checked on the trackin' My bitch on the way, she gon' give me some action [Verse] Yeah, I'm on Rodeo, I just seen LeBron I swear I feel better with you in my arms I know for sure that the world in my palms I'm burnin' on pressure, that shit make me calm She love watchin' me spit on the mic and make songs I love watchin' her frolic around in a thong Yes, it's true, Money Man is a king like I'm Kong I'm stayin' sharp like the sword and the stone Fly as hell, you know I'm fly like a drone All my hoes sexy, they bad to the bone I lift niggas up, I don't put niggas on 800 bucks for an ounce of cologne I swear she conceited and no, I can't blame her She all 'bout her business and no one can change her I trap in the projects, that shit be so dangerous These niggas be crossin', that shit got me angry I turned down the show, the promoter was janky I just met a hacker and he had me thinkin' A nigga want smoke then I'm leavin' him stankin' I don't shoot the breeze but I will shoot this rifle I be flippin' them whips, I just got me a title She come to the spot and give head like a visor I don't have a budget, I don't need advisors [Bridge] Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh [Chorus] I walk in the booth and I pour out my soul Sold all these P's to buy diamonds and gold If we talkin' G, then I'm fittin' the mold Bitch I'm the shit just like I'm a commode You comin' home with me, baby, come on What's all that hate for, lil' nigga? Come on I swear your silhouette turnin' me on Turn them bags on my artists, they get that shit gone These niggas ain't ballin', they injury-prone Had to cut this bitch off, she keep callin' my phone I make her scream, I make her moan I put the 2.5 inside of a cone Got her wet like a yacht on the beach in Miami You still see her ass through them pants and they baggy Got that pack on the way, I just checked on the trackin' My bitch on the way, she gon' give me some action