Text

Plug hit me up
I ain't get the text
I be counting bands
I don't gotta flex

What I'm counting
I just add it up
I don't need an accountant
I just count it bruh

Everytime I go out
A nigga gotta show out
That ain't what them hoes bout
She want her back blown out

Who the fuck you think you is
You not like me
You wear Gucci
I wear white tee

So icy
You don't like me
You can try me
They find your body

I keep it posi
Do a hundred in a honda
I don't need a Maserati
That bich like Maserati

Don't need nobody sign me
I keep my shit private
My thoughts is really cloudy
Still navigate properly

See I was sitting watching
But now I'm grown rocking
You niggas can't stop me
I feel like I'm rocky

The road is really rocky
I think da feeds watching me
I had your bich on top of me
Fuck her face properly

That pussy ain't property
But she say it's mine
She say loose the top for me
I'm looking down her spine

Dat tootie juicy fruit booty
I still got the wine
She never say wat you gon do to me
She be surprised

When I was younger
I had three or four biches wilding
Grew up on my own
and I'm still bout it bout it

I been on the island
Not even in America
The games are really childish
Stay based I'm telling ya



Credits
Writer(s): Samuel Walker
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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