That Wasn't Very Cash Money of You
Getting panic attacks, I need benzos
Feel like the fuck is this meant for
Shit getting so bad, I need ten of those
'Til I forget this song's mo'fuckin' tempo
Uh, fuck, sit in my living room shivering
Like I be lost in my ice while it's glistening
Fuck would I wanna be rich, I don't give a shit
Waking and living is everyday misery
Pussy got clout, now he claim that he suffering
Crying in the Benz, bitch boy you can stuff it
I ain't got a goddamn thing in my pocket
Cause I don't got a bitch in my mo'fuckin' budget
Keep on tryna push me, I ain't fuckin' budging
I ain't gon' mo'fuckin' move for you
Hate all you punk motherfuckers who think they unusual
Y'all going right to your funeral
I heard your shit and it sounded so juvenile
Wrote better shit in my notebook I doodled in
Back in the third grade, bitch
Cross me, you gon' need some first aid, bitch
I just came to fuck around and murk they shit
Digging in the mud, on my dirt face shit
Bitches claim they fire, but you lying cause I heard y'all spit
So I'm blowing out your flame like a birthday wish
I can't, mo'fuckin' stand all you clowns
Acting like y'all ever getting handed the crown
Bitch, man the fuck up and I'll handle it now
Cause I doubt y'all can even throw down anyway
Like damn, all y'all wanna make enemies
I'm that fuckin' under two hundred pound heavyweight
Like damn, all y'all wanna be mini-me since I changed
Get your own lane, ain't a thing left to say
Feel like the fuck is this meant for
Shit getting so bad, I need ten of those
'Til I forget this song's mo'fuckin' tempo
Uh, fuck, sit in my living room shivering
Like I be lost in my ice while it's glistening
Fuck would I wanna be rich, I don't give a shit
Waking and living is everyday misery
Pussy got clout, now he claim that he suffering
Crying in the Benz, bitch boy you can stuff it
I ain't got a goddamn thing in my pocket
Cause I don't got a bitch in my mo'fuckin' budget
Keep on tryna push me, I ain't fuckin' budging
I ain't gon' mo'fuckin' move for you
Hate all you punk motherfuckers who think they unusual
Y'all going right to your funeral
I heard your shit and it sounded so juvenile
Wrote better shit in my notebook I doodled in
Back in the third grade, bitch
Cross me, you gon' need some first aid, bitch
I just came to fuck around and murk they shit
Digging in the mud, on my dirt face shit
Bitches claim they fire, but you lying cause I heard y'all spit
So I'm blowing out your flame like a birthday wish
I can't, mo'fuckin' stand all you clowns
Acting like y'all ever getting handed the crown
Bitch, man the fuck up and I'll handle it now
Cause I doubt y'all can even throw down anyway
Like damn, all y'all wanna make enemies
I'm that fuckin' under two hundred pound heavyweight
Like damn, all y'all wanna be mini-me since I changed
Get your own lane, ain't a thing left to say
Credits
Writer(s): Christian Mueller
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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