don’t worry

Lyrics

[Intro] (Boy—, that's them, boy—) [Chorus] And this bitch she want my bag, told her, "Get off of my back" (Fuck you, nigga) I was fucked up in that trap and I had to get off my ass Still up in the trap, difference is I'm countin' cash I think your ho tight, 'cause I get her then I dash He said he want smoke and I'm gon' light, is you gon' match? I might do 'em bad, 'cause he clutchin' on his bag [Verse] You just pump fake, pump fake, you ain't got no strap You just pump fake, pump fake, all you do is lack That bitch ran through, she ran through, I cannot cuff that gnat When that pack touched down, yeah, you know I caught that I push up all black, leave your favorite rapper flat I told your mans to come get back, nigga ain't spinnin' for shit Swear you niggas be thinkin' you him and that's how you niggas get hit Smokin' eighths to the face, I can't feel a thing Ain't no ho on my mind, I could barely even think If he push up to my crib, then I'm leavin' him six feet All these bitches in my DMs, told them "Get off of my D" I'm just worried 'bout me, and I'm worried 'bout my trap I been on the same shit, but I cannot go back, yeah I been on the same shit, but I cannot go back She fuckin' my mans, you can't get your ho back By the pound, I smoke that, yeah She a thot, can't fuck with that, yeah What's the deal? Like I got [max?], yeah [Chorus] And this bitch she want my bag, told her, "Get off of my back" I was fucked up in that trap and I had to get off my ass Still up in the trap, difference is I'm countin' cash I think your ho tight, 'cause I get her then I dash He said he want smoke and I'm gon' light, is you gon' match? I might do 'em bad, 'cause he clutchin' on his bag