LiF3

Iphone 8, section 8
Your son 8 but he aint 8
Got off my ass & put food on my plate
Tried finessing a bag & got hit in the face
Sleep with the fishes get fried or filet
Make her drip when she taste
Bitch my dick serve like base
Got so much i can fill me a lake
Pop a pill then i faint
She got skills for a saint
No lie, i mean yolo
Showed my hand
When i shouldve had his jaw broke
Stand tall ten toes bet they all fold
Ride low, niggas sneak diss with their eyes closed
High hopes, i know wherever that i go
My growth, builds like a beat or a high note
I wont
Stop til my names on every title
If you are an enemy than my homies gon ride slow

I dont know how to feel anymore
I dont know how to feel anymore
Feels like im pushing at the walls
Cause Im trying to find a way out
In the dark with a small light on the inside yeah
I dont know how to feel anymore
I dont know how to feel anymore
It feels like im breaking but Im standing strong I needed some love but life goes on

I wish that i just kept my distance
From all of those negative people without hesitation but everything happens by reason
Im tryna move right like the left was needed
My mind is racing
I cant feel it but my body tells me to stay patient
Im tryna dive deep for greatness in the making I hope that I make it
Im putting myself first I gota stay selfish
No reason to hate, that shit bad for your health
I dont got no time just to chill
Im tryna stay blessed
On my mind i got millions
Im tryna be the light, the witness
But there are angels to got the lost
And the demons are waiting for you fall
So fuck it when i make it were gonna ball
You only live once so ima give it all

They shoulda
Neva let a nigga get started
Niggas smell my gas like I jus farted
True to the game
So ya boy cold hearted
Man I ball and I can't be guarded
Ima workaholic
More plants than a garden
All my hittas shoot first
Like James harden
You rappers are garbage
You call yourselves artists
I stay with the plug
You can call me a charger
You stay on the bench
And bloodline we the starters
My flow hot as august
I'm killin these rappers start pickin out coffins
This kush got me coughin
Im high as a Martian
My crew like an army
Yours like meet the Spartans
Haa
I beg your pardon
Gas like Gordon
More bars than than a worden
Bad bitch I'm excortin
This money I'm sortin
I'm so filled with dope
But coke ain't what I'm snortin



Credits
Writer(s): Drew Riser
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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