Poetry

Lyrics

[Intro] Like, huh, hold on, huh [Verse] Let the Lab chain swing but this bitch a trophy We the motherfucking reason Apple got a shit emoji Bae rock Christian Dior so my bitch is holy Looking like December twenty-fifth, all these giffies on me Think you finna play with my pape'? You would die for that Bro'll wet yo fucking tee up like a laundromat I ain't talking 'bout no seat belt but I ride with straps Lemon Cherry stuffed in the 'Wood, bitch, Tron is smacked Feel like Tropicana, got the juice off of punching shit Funny I got four burners on me in the Oven Mitt We ain't even beefing, buddy mad that I humped his bitch She don't ask what I'm doing, bitch know I'm thumbing strips Bitch thinking it's a spacecraft, it's a AMG Empty-ass soul, ain't no love or no hate in me Off-White X on my shirt, this a racist tee She wanna give her heart, made yo bitch give her face to me Trackhawks, Hellcats, you ain't racing me If it's up then my baby sending shit to the gates for me I be dogging niggas' hoes, ain't no taming me Fan stopped me in the mall, my bitch saying, "It's the fame for me" If I get a mill' today, bitch, me and gang breaking even I should bring a fucking bed in that bitch, how I stay in Neiman's Lil' bro'll pop yo ass just because, he can't tame his demons I just hit the booth and shit talk, you would think my anus speaking Bro sip expensive, on his Wock' in the Simply shit Four pockets full but my heart on some empty shit Chill day, still stepping out in some crispy shit I don't know if she believe me or not, on some Ripley shit For me, it's a giffy trip, unc' making brickies flip This some Off-White, fuck I look like in Dickie drip? Hunnid rounds in this lil' bitch, this the Mickey stick With all that lil' shit, no cap, you can miss me, bitch If you my dawg, you my dawg, boy, I got yo back .762s flip his ass like a acrobat All that shit you be rapping 'bout, put a cap on that Let his ho ever say it's up, we gon' act on that Drawing plays up for them bills, feel like Belichick She can be yo lil' bitch, I'm still getting hella neck Balenciagas on, boy, that's 10K in seven steps Tryna throw a fist? That's gon' land you in Heaven, neph' Yeah, Supreme tee with the liver, looking like an organ donor Red bottoms for my bitch, boy, ain't no Jordans on her Three-five after three-five, gang more than stoners Since he playing with his fucking life, get it shortened on him Pull up on my opps, wave a stick like it's sorcery Green beams and white lows, boy, that's the force in me You could see a damn biscuit, boy, you ain't horsing me They say I'm shit talking but to me, this shit poetry