(Show me that I'm done, I'm finished here, but still no fear, yeah)
Ain't no more reminiscin'
Ain't no more judgin', no intuition
(Tell me why I'm livin', why am I remaining here?)
I was smokin' 'Scotti, but not Pippen
I taught my son how to stack that shit to the ceilin'
Drop a body, and you wouldn't have to pay for lunch
I told my dawg I'm ridin' whether he right or wrong
I done got big, they record my life through a drone
I told my bitch to stay behind me, I'm in my zone
She like, "How the fuck you ain't never wrote a song?"
Same reason your fine ass ain't never wore a thong
You ain't ridin' for life, then I'd just rather ride alone
Bought you a spot, now you don't never gotta go
Yeah, I told my nigga I'ma drop the jewels on him
You gotta go through this shit with your heart, you can't snooze on it
It's bad, you better get rid of it or lose on it
I know you heard that old sayin' about bad fruit, homie
Huh, if you can't beat 'em, knock it out 'em
If you gon' kill 'em, better not be sloppy
I told my daughter, "Keep one in the head," she ain't gotta cock it
I told my son if he wanted to live, he might catch a body
I told my son he ain't a cheerleader but he might gotta catch a body
His driver named Joe, but he still can't do it sloppy
I just hopped up out that Ghost, I been drivin' a dead body
I ain't really into nothin', but I spend it like a hobby
I was locked inside the trap, didn't think about it, but I got out it
Now my cars and clothes exotic
Ain't 6ix9ine, but two hoes with me right now, you can call me Shotti
I been droppin' all my Vicks and now the FBI won't stop me
Got this shit on fire like Takis, nigga, whoa, whoa, whoa
(Show me that I'm done, I'm finished here, but still no fear, yeah)
Ain't no more reminiscin'
Ain't no more judgin', no intuition
(Tell me why I'm livin', why am I remaining here?)
I was smokin' 'Scotti, but not Pippen
I taught my son how to stack that shit to the ceilin'
Yeah, they complimentin' my new Rolls-Royce
TV in the front of that motherfucker like a tour bus
Spirit of Ecstasy got me feelin' so blessed, you see
I told my bitch I was 'bout to go shoot up Treaster Tree
Half a million dollars on my dawgs and all my cars
Couple millions to my mama and my pa
Got the sniper on the roof for niggas tryna act hard
I just bought a brand new coupe, and it's a black Jaguar
Matte black, old Trans Am, thank you, ma'am
We gon' make us a pornstar video, new cam
I came up just watchin' my pop gamble my food stamps
I just cause cramps, I don't go back and forth with tramps
Baby, we stamped, just for that, I'ma call you "Ma'am"
Got the T-Rex, I just gave my daddy the Cam
I got the sheets wet
Pick that lil' bitch up, then I slam her like I'm from B-X
Then I fold her up like a clam, yeah
It was dark, then I came to the light
I was poor, and now my doors suicide
I don't know how to make it right, right
Bought four Birkins for you, keep it light, light
I don't care about you leavin' me
I got no time to try to make it right
I just hope you find another life
Won't pick you up if you ever fall, right (whoa, whoa, whoa)
(Show me that I'm done, I'm finished here, but still no fear, yeah)
Ain't no more reminiscin'
Ain't no more judgin', no intuition
(Tell me why I'm livin', why am I remaining here?)
I was smokin' 'Scotti, but not Pippen
I taught my son how to stack that shit to the ceilin'
Writer(s): Andrew Kenneth Franklin, Chandler Durham, Kyle Smith, Jeffery Lamar Williams, Matthew E. Charles
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Missing Link Music, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
