Sad No More
Nothing
Nothing
I don't feel nothing
No
No
I don't really really feel sad no more
I don't feel nothing so I'm walking out the door
Catch the slugger leaving with your bitch with your hoe
Bored as fuck I'm just laying on the floor
Staring at the ceiling thinking 'bout what I can do
Got this shit depressing when I look at you
Can't do nothing but throw in your tool
Talking talking talking bitch that's all you fucking do
God damn
Burning down the capital
Tryna get this capital
Fuck you think I'm rapping for
I get the dough
I get the smoke
I get the coke
Me stay low low
Kill myself slow
Fuck on your hoe
A couple of bands
Fuck do you want
Aye, murder murder me
Murder murder me god damn
Ain't shit free
What the fuck you need
Give it to me right now
Murder murder me
Murder murder me ya ya
I get this shit like a dandelion
Pantomime
Run it up run it up
Give me what is mine
Do you fucking mind
I ain't got the time
Boy you acting out of pocket
Out of line
Color inside the lines
I don't want to do it
You ain't got a choice
Bitch you should fucking prove it
Watch me hit a Kama Sutra on your wife
And dip like you ain't losing
Boy you out of line
Nothing
I don't feel nothing
No
No
I don't really really feel sad no more
I don't feel nothing so I'm walking out the door
Catch the slugger leaving with your bitch with your hoe
Bored as fuck I'm just laying on the floor
Staring at the ceiling thinking 'bout what I can do
Got this shit depressing when I look at you
Can't do nothing but throw in your tool
Talking talking talking bitch that's all you fucking do
God damn
Burning down the capital
Tryna get this capital
Fuck you think I'm rapping for
I get the dough
I get the smoke
I get the coke
Me stay low low
Kill myself slow
Fuck on your hoe
A couple of bands
Fuck do you want
Aye, murder murder me
Murder murder me god damn
Ain't shit free
What the fuck you need
Give it to me right now
Murder murder me
Murder murder me ya ya
I get this shit like a dandelion
Pantomime
Run it up run it up
Give me what is mine
Do you fucking mind
I ain't got the time
Boy you acting out of pocket
Out of line
Color inside the lines
I don't want to do it
You ain't got a choice
Bitch you should fucking prove it
Watch me hit a Kama Sutra on your wife
And dip like you ain't losing
Boy you out of line
Credits
Writer(s): Chaz Bell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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