Lyrics
Yeah
I got that OCD logo on my left wrist
Told Babjack I need another when my check hit
Honestly a goddamn shame I had to dead it
But FuckYoGimmick baby
Throw it up like you're pregnant
HIR on the pants every night
I miss my dog this shit just ain't right
It's not the type of song for that shit, they cite
But I just gotta ball til the afterlife
Cuz that's the only way that I can make sense of it
I've been heating up like I just set the oven
I've been weeded up like six
Seven months
Hitting better shit than you can get
Fuck what you puffing
Y'all fuck your cousins
In the back row
Staring at the game, throwing up
Like that's gross
Rip a fat roll in twenty four karat gold
And then swim through the flow like a fucking tadpole
You can
You can go and suck a dick with your opinion
All cap, all lid
You spitting
All shits
No gigs just gimmicks
Only bars you got got a caramel filling
I pull up to the booth in my rocket power Members Only
Y'all can't see me, ever be me, ever get to know me
Your girl can't blow me
Granny can't make me pirogies
I don't want a track with any of your homies
For real
Stephen Mancino
O/B/O DistroKid