Lyrics:
After years and tears
And confronting his fears
He's dead on his record
For the world to hear
And they'll all think
That it was suicide
But Christie
to put it in the air
I ain't playing, ain't never joking
Keep it low key
And I know they wanna know but don't know me
I tell them bing my phone if they
at your house while you kept telling me you still deeply in love.
And how you would never hurt me these just thoughts I’m making up and how I was crazy,
with the floss talk
I put your name on a list and get it crossed off
Fake nigga, you a lost cause
Gotta treat you like a old bitch or old whip
You a lost
The caged bird singing
Cause the shit that
Ain't worth thinking
Getting more plays
Than what he put out, meaning
He's gon' go harder
Going out
On a record with Quincy, put some respek on my fuckin name
I told my bros, we got this on lock together
Might take a while my gee, but we gon surely get there
the last
Bet it was a blast she was making the splash
And I got one more favor to ask
Can I put a lil' bit cocaine on your ass
I took a sniff and I told
Forever seems like long ago
All we used to know
We've left it behind
It's when I put that record on
When I hear our song
And suddenly I'm in
Probably think that I don't need her anymore
I'm just working out my demons with the Lord
Put them deep into a song like I bleed when I record
I don't even
wasn't for grandma, I would of been hung up
But I heard her voice in my head, tellin' me to be tough
I put the sheet back on the mattress, where the fuck
slime for real, foe, I'll slime you out just for the fee
Niggas know I put shit in the dirt, bitch, I ain't gotta brag
Go ask how I caught lil' shh, I
Niggas'll hold back on podium
Then try to put a record out to free him
Release him
I'm wide awake, migraine headache
Food on my plate
You need real estate's
crying days
All my niggas live in memory
When I die to remember me
Hit the Gucci spend a hundred g's
Make a million put it on the streets
Live and eat let
bravado. and you can tell by the way i raise my hand - not in a fist but for a question. take out your manifestos and then put them away. i implore you
Right before I come recordin', put a slit up on your neck
I just need to drill the buttons, feel them, wash it down again
Hit rewind, ain't
Ooh-ah
I still need a drink, put all the glasses in the sink
From chasin' a shot that rang through hell
For the record, I'm fine with what's
the real story
(Stop Bhad Bhabie)
Finally reached out to my dad
We met at the mall on some other shit
Pissed off by his tattoos 'cause they had
Your face when you'd wake up schemes that you'd always take up the way
That you stood on the pedestal you were put on the moons you brought
Around
before the loss
This stupid motherfucker put the cart before the horse
I navigate hurdles like a jockey on a horse
This stick shift way too sloppy
You stole something that I can't put my finger on
But I know it was you
So don't come around trying to look so smooth
You took something that I'm
even care, what you be talking about
I'm busy! Boss status, That type of nigga you go to see to put that
job app in, surrounded by wild trees like
slippin, and get shot up by my assistant
But nigga please, that shots from the k
Knock the smile off your face, so calmate guey
Im a blaze up the Arizona
This letter came in the CD bookletof the limited edition
of "Tol Cormpt Norz Norz Norz" CDDear listener,
You are holding in your hands the re-release
wild, but she don't even know
Started up slow just to set the tone
Speed it up and make her lose control
Beat it up, record it on your phone
Watch it
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