Differentiate
I don't think that you want it
Making me sick to my stomach
She call me a sinner, aye
Dick up her liver, aye
I'm a god damn winner, aye
Flowin' with a rhythm, aye
Oh, ya flow so basic
Yea you know me, use to spit in the basement, huh
Now I am looking at faces, runnin' with paces, reppin' that gang shit
I can take you to the top
Toting a Glock, bitch on my cock, ouu
Fucking with me on the clock, don't be an opp, paying it up, ouu
Bitch I flex just like a pro
So much gas all in smoke
Please don't say that you want smoke if you can't keep it on the low
Don't be a snitch (snitch)
Mad I took yo bitch (bitch)
You ain't even hit
You goofy while I'm lit
NASCAR spit so fast so smooth won't crash
All these diamonds round my neck
Wrist on shine just like spaceship
Started from the basement
Thought I'd never make it
Lookin' at blue faces
Flow is on attack like I'm a mother fuckin' vet
You know nothing about that
I been spitting fuckin' bars since I was unintelligent
Now I'm smarter, taller, harder, yuh
Calling the bartender, yuh
Pour another cup I'm gone
Roll it up and hit the bong
Spark it up its feeling wrong
Fix it with a shot a Patron
Old school kid but don't get it wrong
Brand new strap up on my hip, yuh
Baby please don't trip, huh
Running with the clique, huh
RichTheFunnyKidd, huh
All up on my dick, huh, yuh
I just want a little peace
Is that too much to ask for me?
CMA X GTC
Drippin' so icky, so sticky
I don't think that you want it
Making me sick to my stomach
She call me a sinner, aye
Dick up her liver, aye
I'm a god damn winner, aye
Flowin' with a rhythm, aye
I don't think that you want it
Making me sick to my stomach
She call me a sinner, aye
Dick up her liver, aye
I'm a god damn winner, aye
Flowin' with a rhythm, aye
Making me sick to my stomach
She call me a sinner, aye
Dick up her liver, aye
I'm a god damn winner, aye
Flowin' with a rhythm, aye
Oh, ya flow so basic
Yea you know me, use to spit in the basement, huh
Now I am looking at faces, runnin' with paces, reppin' that gang shit
I can take you to the top
Toting a Glock, bitch on my cock, ouu
Fucking with me on the clock, don't be an opp, paying it up, ouu
Bitch I flex just like a pro
So much gas all in smoke
Please don't say that you want smoke if you can't keep it on the low
Don't be a snitch (snitch)
Mad I took yo bitch (bitch)
You ain't even hit
You goofy while I'm lit
NASCAR spit so fast so smooth won't crash
All these diamonds round my neck
Wrist on shine just like spaceship
Started from the basement
Thought I'd never make it
Lookin' at blue faces
Flow is on attack like I'm a mother fuckin' vet
You know nothing about that
I been spitting fuckin' bars since I was unintelligent
Now I'm smarter, taller, harder, yuh
Calling the bartender, yuh
Pour another cup I'm gone
Roll it up and hit the bong
Spark it up its feeling wrong
Fix it with a shot a Patron
Old school kid but don't get it wrong
Brand new strap up on my hip, yuh
Baby please don't trip, huh
Running with the clique, huh
RichTheFunnyKidd, huh
All up on my dick, huh, yuh
I just want a little peace
Is that too much to ask for me?
CMA X GTC
Drippin' so icky, so sticky
I don't think that you want it
Making me sick to my stomach
She call me a sinner, aye
Dick up her liver, aye
I'm a god damn winner, aye
Flowin' with a rhythm, aye
I don't think that you want it
Making me sick to my stomach
She call me a sinner, aye
Dick up her liver, aye
I'm a god damn winner, aye
Flowin' with a rhythm, aye
Credits
Writer(s): Lonely Rich, Richard Martin Jr.
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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