YTMP3

(SAINT) And he died at 20 years old Caught a body, this shit getting old Remember them days? Yeah, we getting old I can’t fold, gotta flex my control Shooting Scotty, got range on the pole You ain’t touching us, your reach too low See the numbers—they come and they go I don’t gotta trap, but you move, we blow Got ice on my chain from excursions He ain’t with us, that bitch like flirting I make money by selling my wording Heard him talk, now we move and we lurking I ain’t dissing, but the time is urgent You a fag, looking like a sea urchin Talk ‘bout money, but you got no cursive You ain’t nothing to a fucking kernal Takе the diss back, get the cash fast I’m a mothеrf***ing hero Remember them days eating Cheerios? Now they cheer for me, ’cause I got zeros She gon’ fuck my hair up, we gon’ fucking tear up I can’t even lie, I I don’t make shit up