[Intro]
(Yeah, yeah)
(I got a drug problem, brain damage)
(Yeah, I woke up on a Percocet)
(They don't want my Oxy')
(Oh-oh, morning when the Percs hit)
(Drug problem, brain damage)
(Brain damage, brain damage, yeah-yeah)
(That's how I got racks up)
[Chorus]
Yeah, walked in, walked in, no talking, shittin' on 'em
Walked in, they flocking, got big bands, big tipping on 'em (Phew)
Last year, I was broke, I ain't lyin', I'm bein' honest (Baguette)
But they don't wanna hear the truth, they too defensive, I call that bitch Giannis (Huh)
Pulled up in that bitch and throw some cash, put my bizzy on it (Word)
All my brothers get the same racks, I put my twizzy on it (Real)
How could I ever steal some swag, when they stole my style from me? (Stealin' my shit)
This bitch-ass kid who was hatin' still wanted a song with me
I got drug problem, I got drug problem (Problem)
Got a drank problem
Got a X problem
Got a Oxy' problem (Problem)
Got a Addy problem (Yeah)
Got a whore problem, I don't (No), call 'em
[Verse]
You not my friend, get out my phone, that's why I blocked 'em
I be in my mental too much, that's why I got problems (That's it)
You call my phone, you need me (That mean shit)
I'm gonna end up on the TV (Hey)
This the Cayenne, the one you said you love in rose gold (Skrr)
I'm not tryin', but if I'm dyin', I still won't fold (Yeah)
Yeah, flyin', I'm definitely drivin', I'm on the road (Brrt)
And it's private, don't need no stylist, I dress my own (Own)
I hit Dover Street Market, I'm in New York (York)
I hit, Helmut Lang, I'm in the store (Store)
Got the hoodie, they gon' throw me ten for four (Four)
Called my plug and told me I need somethin' more (Dude)
This Oxy' ain't hittin' like that no more (More)
Yeah, this drank ain't hittin' like the Morph' (Morph')
This ecstasy I'm takin', no more (X)
She blame the drugs, but that lil' bitch really just a whore
See the hella high I get, I can't feel no more
Bitch a thotty slut, that bitch a whore (Whore)
I got brain damage from all these drugs (Go)
She got lame, damn it, I told the bitch to cut it off
I can't feel no more, my Carhartt turn to Chrome Hearts
Twizzy keep that steel, he keep that metal, he keep them auto parts (Yeah)
Unloaded the clip, it hit-hit him in sixteen body parts
It's no more feelin' in what I do, so I count my racks (Up-up-up)
[Chorus]
Yeah, walked in, walked in, no talking, shittin' on 'em
Walked in, they flocking, got big bands, big tipping on 'em (Phew)
Last year, I was broke, I ain't lyin', I'm bein' honest (Baguette)
But they don't wanna hear the truth, they too defensive, I call that bitch Giannis (Huh)
Pulled up in that bitch and throw some cash, put my bizzy on it (Word)
All my brothers get the same racks, I put my twizzy on it (Real)
How could I ever steal some swag, when they stole my style from me? (Stealin' my shit)
This bitch-ass kid who was hatin' still wanted a song with me
I got drug problem, I got drug problem (Problem)
Got a drank problem
Got a X problem
Got a Oxy' problem (Problem)
Got a Addy problem (Yeah)
Got a whore problem, I don't (No), call 'em (No, no)
READ MORE ABOUT YEAT
