Lyrics
Don't talk to me bout that shit you concerned of
N.E.R.D looking motherfucka but i'm still In Search Of
That money
Grow some more bread make me feel in a daze
Ain't been myself in some days
Feel like i'm fading away
Pass the competition like a J how i'm smoking on they pack
Juvenile bitches want me back um
Stupid wild bitch and I ain't mad
Had to fucking grow up cuz I'm acting like I'm older
Just wait until I blow up
Gun go from my fucking hip to my shoulder
Smoking on my strains that I copped out in Boulder
Ball like Jordan
Killed your homie
Now ya'll mourning
In the morning
Blood turn orange
Grab the clip in my storage
Blood is pouring in my hood
Love ain't showing
Clip in my bag tote all up in my Audi bitch
Wip, brand new wip, for these haters fucking stalking bitch
Talk, ya'll just talk, but ya'll never do the walking bitch
RIP, R.I.P, to your motherfuckin' partner bitch
To your motherfuckin' partner bitch
RIP, R.I.P, to your motherfuckin' partner bitch