Lyrics:
the roaches in my ashtray
Nigga slid up in my car in my passenger seat
Talking my ears off, adjusting my beat
Stashed my heat up under my seat
Stepped out
should cut it
Been gone for a minute, I just been adjusting
I got it myself, niggas can't tell me nothing
Nah
Come Uptown where it's lit, bruh we got this
know you think that's a bad bitch but I had it
I done fell in love with addicts and automatics
That is not designer, that you smoking, that's a Graphic
That was my intention, I never mentioned
That new Mercedes got suspension, with lots of tension
I never wanted anything Except for your attention
I
brought pack in
Said he got it but he lackin
Know dat he cappn
Playin freeze da gat a tag em
Call da coroner to bag em
Just brought the bag in
Automatic
Talking 'bout love
I'm talking 'bout love
I'm talking 'bout
Oh yes, fully automatic
Comes in any size
Makes me wonder what I did
Before we
Talking 'bout love
I'm talking 'bout love
I'm talking 'bout
Oh yes, fully automatic
Comes in any size
Makes me wonder what I did
Before we
My virus is obvious, past on to most rap fiends
Un cured, ain't no vaccine
Last seen at the automatic teller machine, maxing out
Or in the studio
Niggas stepping
Neva panic
Gotta run it
Automatic
Gotta have it
Reach it grab it
Closer to the riches
Tell them niggas
Stay up out my bidness
They
suspension
Stop clicking bait mnapenda ngono sana
Na tusidebate mnapiga domo sana
Chusa ninaflow kama mto river Tana
Wachana na mimi bana oya mimi nile ujana
expect me to do?
At least I gotta know what I wanna be
Don't come to me if you need pity
Are you lonely? You got no one
You get your body in suspension
expect me to do?
At least I gotta know what I wanna be
Don't come to me if you need pity
Are you lonely? You got no one
You get your body in suspension
from the same cloth
But I guess you fabricate, eh?
You better bring more men than the Latter Day Saints
Manic states, Steven Paddock with automatic
suspension
That's a problem, problem, problem
The problem is you
Eat your heart out on a plastic tray
You don't do what you want and you fade away
You
suspension
I'm boutta start up the engine
She blowing up, but I'm Cricket
Shawty keep dialing digits
I got good jeans, I admit it
Nike White Tee and it's
no vaccine
Last seen at the automatic teller machine, maxing out
Or in the studio booth, blacking out
It's con-ed style, real twisted, I disappear
over champion
That pussy fully automatic
Like when she suck it and she catch it
Rated-r movie cinematic
Beat the guts, she be oozing when I stab her
solar system
Spiritually and mentally, 'Cause I'm seeing things in so many different perspectives
Now my eye is adjusting for the 3rd and final time
Yo antennas need adjusting trynna channel me
Fuck’em if they can’t handle all this profanity
Say what I feel and fuck’em if they try to cancel me
earning more
But gas is up so I'm burning more
Addiction's a revolving door
Don't call me I will ignore
Semi automatic I think someone in the attic
I'll
hear the sound
Of the static
It's automatic
Killing the light
It surrounds
Like phlegmatic
Became fanatic
Adjusting to the night
And the knives cut deep
the the tag
Imma just Snag it
Then get the blastin
My automatic
Then get the cash and dip
I like to bag they goals
Porsche pushing past them hoes
Damn I'm cold
bitch stop adjusting my seat
Who let the top off
I just wanna know who bouta
Help me get my rocks off
Walking through the door
She say she wanna give me
shit automatic bitch I'm in my zone
They wanna be like me they wan be my clone
I'm stroking yo bitch from the back while she moan
Keep talking crazy
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