Booked Summer

Lyrics

[Intro] (My nigga Lee, I think we got another one) I just drunk a pint of Tris, feel it in my bladder (Sonny Digital) Bitch got cheeks, I'ma smash her Bitch tried to leave on me, had to grab her [Verse] Call me Michael Myers, I'll stab her Five thousand for a Pelle coat with the rabbit fur Why you lookin' in the ashtray? You a scavenger Me and Mike slid out his bitch car, it was an Avenger The lil' Dodge dude Yeah, I know your pops, I know moms too, I was hittin' that Like lil' nigga, when you was in diapers, I was sippin' Act' You couldn't even grab a knife and I could get a strap Told my bitch, "I'm goin' to the feds, so go get a strap" Basically what I'm sayin', you gay 'til I'm gettin' back 'Til I get back, this a six-pack I don't really likе the shoes, this a Rick hat Walked in thе Gucci store, spent a knick-knack Walked out with one bag, what you get, Jack? This the one y'all kept askin' me, "Where you get that? How you get that?" Bitch, I was gone a month, how you get cracked in thirty days? You would take a pint, drink it thirty ways You niggas pour half in lines He just told a lil' bitch he dropped half a dime, call him five cent Nigga, fuck your kids 'cause mine's rich When I come and think about it, they say Ike snitched, that shit in his veins I really don't trust niggas who be hittin' 'caine I think I'm finna stop rappin', this shit gettin' lame 'Cause these niggas ain't rappin', they don't feel the same These niggas think shit a game They was lookin' to the left, we came a different way Nigga jumped on his car with a whole Drac' Hit him twice, took off his whole face Nigga, they shoot Ubers up, so don't ride share I kinda love Atlanta, wanna die here They let me out December 11th, this my year Still talkin' wet, go get a dryer When I mix Tris with the Quagen I get higher Nigga, I'm independent, I'm with EMPIRE Your friend kinda ugly, but my friend like her She look like she smoke meth like a damn biker I done poured a four of Act' in a can Spriter Fuck around, spent forty racks at Can-Am Spyder I don't even drive it I leave my jewelry layin' out, I don't even hide it, I got insurance on it Bud said he grew the weed, but it's curin' Sunday Hop on a bitch with the pump, call me Bugs Bunny My son don't want no toys, he just love money He got a hundred racks on him, okay, lil' money And I ain't talkin' 'bout the shit they took from me When can't nobody get drank, I find Snook number I'm finna pop another Perc', make me look dumber This nigga talkin' 'bout a show, I got a booked summer I gotta dog walk her ass, but fuck summer Talkin' 'bout she don't listen to the Detroit music I'm from Flint, but bitches in Detroit do it Nowadays I don't say shit, I just point to 'em I ain't sign to EMPIRE, we did a joint venture Ayy, he thought it was a gram, it was a point-six-er My white boy that get drank look like Pointdexter Since he actin' like a buffalo, clap his horns together This new 'za shit cool, I like corns better Bae, she got some good pussy, but yours wetter I just had to inform you Fuck the rain, outside we'll storm too I heard they payin' seventy-five for the orange dude 'Cause they can't press 'em I make a hundred racks a day, nigga, I ain't stressin' Wasn't no dope in the crib, they found nine weapons and like five switches Just know I'd really love you if I cried to you Auntie don't do fentanyl, all butter