Cobra

And I don't say sorry unless I need to
And I won't write letters unless I need you
She was making fonts, change the way I read you
Text message, typewriters, this is old news
You see through, faux dude, low hanging fruit
And I been trying to tell you, the text don't go through
Bad communication
I got depression for a minute
Then I slipped and fell back in it

Thinking what my momma would say, if I told her
Sitting on the couch sticky fingers from the doja
Took a quick glimpse at the world it's a cold one
All my new problems getting mixed with the old ones
And i'm still sinking in the sulfur
It's been hard to breath when your mouths being sewed shut
Never getting paper, niggas short to the quota
Papa always told me don't make deals with the cobras



Credits
Writer(s): Wilson Hunter
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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