Yeah, uh
Lotta people that I trust, but I can't give two fucks
I had a blower in my bag; I kept the ratchet tucked
This fucking pussy was a fag; we turned his faggot up (bean)
I'm not sure if we gon' make it, but we'll tie it up
Yeah
What is love, bitch? You know that I don't fuck with love
I put her trust and my respect right on this Bentley truck
This shit is silly, y'all; I took a bean and feel like God
Man, why you spinning on my partners? Fuck it, kill 'em all
I don't know this pain
This feeling new to me; it's strange
I'm a shooter in the paint, but I can take this bitch long range
Fuck the talking—are you staying?
Is your mental good? You sane?
I don't know if you just playing
But it hurts me, so I'm praying
Asking, what you mad, what you mad for?
We by the Gucci store
Girl, fuck it, grab the whole store
I can't fuck with whores; I'm leaving, time to close the door
Say you running out on me, so what I had you for?
They fuck it, I got it; they fuck it, I got it
And we moving exotic
I might blow that bitch—I'm toxic, exotic
Is they talking exotic?
I'm on my shit, motherfucker, I promise
I gotta make it out, render the projects
What the fuck? I'm just honest
Yeah
Promise, I'm honest, uh
And I promise this shit got me feel—
I promise this shit got me honest
And I promise this shit got you killed
I promise that I ain't gon' rot this
And I promise that I'm finna make it out
And I ain't gonna talk from the projects