New Opps

Yeah

Fuck how you feelin', I'm feelin' great
Only pray for the real, hope they kill the fake
How he come from the bottom and wheel his weight
I just walked through the back and I'm feelin' safe
Gotta smoke 'cause these women be stressin' me
All the talkin' ain't never offendin' me

Makin' hunnids roll up like the pedigree
They be wishin' it was 'em instead of me
Fuck you want me to do? Bitch, I work for it
To be gifted, you live with a curse for it
Problems I can't got to church for
So I don't got time for no hurt, ho

But I carry the team, I got backpacks
City boys, you wan' fuck up the accent
Makin' candy, put sweet in my black paint
And this EV it don't got no gas tank

Too many shooters
Racks in the shoe box
Gotta make two stops
I got some new opps
Out in the nighttime
I want the blue dot
Out on the Westside
Feel like the new Pac

Fucked the bitch, got the burner on me
Think I see the police in my backyard
Muhfuckers, be lurkin' on me
Brand new spot on these niggas when the cash grow
Brand new spot and I stepped on the gas, ho
Twenty O for the merch in a good week
It gon' fuck with your head but we don't speak



Credits
Writer(s): Stephen Michael Feigenbaum, Jacobi Aiken, Kenneth Soriano, Elias Sostre
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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