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