Understand

Fuck whatever the fuck shit y'all talkin bout
Cause bitch we lit
And we live from the 6 side

You don't understand, you don't understand
I remember trapping out my minivan
You just turn your head, you didn't give me a chance
Now you want me back 'cause I been getting bands
Got more clips than Rogers on Demand
Told my family not to worry 'cause I got a plan
I dropped outta school but I still do the math
Too much on my mind, baby you don't understand
Yeah, what a night, what a night yeah
Yeah, finishing a bottle, what a night yeah
Model, striper, actress none of that shit gon' excite me
Your girl just left my crib, give a fuck if you don't like me
Burning through baguettes like a French guy
And my shooter shoot straighter than a French fry
Feel like Popeyes 'cause I'm gripping on that breast and thigh
If a oppa pull up on me, get him deep fried
Let it rain on his block like its wet work
Well-connected yeah you know I gotta network
Pop prescriptions but my head don't fuckin hurt
You used to never understand me, now you gon' learn

Diamonds from New York, they milly rockin' all night long
Bad bitch totin' a glock, it turnin' me on
Burberry cologne, my shit Bur your shit reburbished
Quit tryna be like Burbo, y'all just some Burberry clones
I'm running thru your spot, I take my time I never sprint
And yo bitch came thru when I asked for a blueprint
But, Imma only take the cash, then imma dip
'Cause yo ass never had and never will have any drip
Too much fuck shit on the streets I keep a nina
I got too much on my mind I cannot see ya
She hit me every single day 'cause I get her wet like Aquafina
Hoppin out the window when the opps come
Talking down on the gang, cause you not one
They don't wear a lotta hats but still got caps on
I'll get my hoes to fuck your whole team with a strap on
I gotta go in a minute
We pulled up big black whip all tinted, yeah
Trunk filled up with millions
And yo bitch suck me off while I eat filet mignon
Then I hop up in the booth and I sing like Celine Dion
Diamonds ruby red so when I die my heart goes on
Put me in the grave with all of my bitches' thongs
And when I die, make sure these bitches get these songs

I blew a bag to get a bag I'm in a cycle
So many zeros on my cheque you think it's a typo
I might have to take a flight away I'm going psycho
I hate when bitches do shit just to cheese me 'cause they spiteful
Two shots to his temple, make him dance with Michael
Diamonds shining in the dark I'm never feeling frightful
Yeah I'm with my slimes, yeah I'm with my lizards ain't no Geico
It's funny how you meet so many fakes in real life tho

If you listenin this deep into the tape man I fucks with you forreal
We been making tracks everyday
We gon' blow up one day, I swear to God
We do this for Scarborough
416 In this bitch, ye
And you know we gettin' lit ye
And my whole gang with the shits, ye
Burbo on the board, he gon flip it with no grip ye
Swerving in this coupe, shorty screaming when I drift ye
I'm just going with it in this life there ain't no script, ye
When I'm feeling down, I scroll it up and take a lift, ye
Diamonds shinin' on me
Flippin thru the cash like a magazine
I don't want tha Ferrari I want the Lamborghin'
You don't understand I got a plan I chase my dreams, yeah



Credits
Writer(s): Michael Peter
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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