Move Along!

I know things you won't
Know until you forty
Fake ass friends
Acting like they know me

Flip out a deagle and
Deck it just like it's tony
I make music so i know
Your girl gon blow me

Small talk so we
Call yo ass claptrap
In the stu mixing
Trap make her ass clap

That girl DM' me
And her ass fat
I don't stare cuz you
Know that i respect that

Yuh, yuh
Yuh, banana's
She throw it back
Like she been a dancer

Her ex be
Squishy banana
Bitches text so
Dry-y savannah

I might go
Ba-na-na-nana's
Swear to god these
Boy's lost they manners

She like the
Sound from atlanta
She wanna suck my
Dick in cabana

You can't stop me cuz i'm poppin'
Off and nothing change that
My energy just reached a
New level sidechain that

She do blow and I'm
Blowing her brains back
Headshot, and they drop
When we let the lead pack

Will you tell me that you really
Wanna leave, really wanna leave
Will you tell me that you really
Wanna leave, really wanna leave

Everyday i wake up in the morning
Think to myself, why be on the shelf
If you could have it all, what would you
Ask for? Probably cash big fame and fast cars

Thick hoes, good brain and fashion
Blow racks on chains and satin
Make up for all that's lackin
I turn shit clothes to fashion

I spent most days just trashin
Baggy sweats, still packin
Play hard to get for practice
So i seem more attractive

She done fucked up i ain't
Moving on, if we don't get along
She done fucked up i ain't
Moving on, if we don't get along

Might pipe at the football field
Or in the back seat
Her choice she break the deal
Both options sweet

Will you tell me that you really
Wanna leave, really wanna leave
Will you tell me that you really
Wanna leave, really wanna leave



Credits
Writer(s): Isaiah Tobola
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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