Anti Motive

(My daddy the best)
Big bank take lil' bank, he get embarrassed
These bitches call me Bugs Bunny, they see all these carats
Nigga, Hutch did the piece, who the fuck is Jared?
(Come on P)
Huh, nigga, huh
I'm on the interstate, Beanie Sigel on me and a parrot
Japanese steak, thousand-dollar plate, I can't share it
Fuck your mixtape, MC Gusto, I don't wanna hear it
Have that chopper sing in your face, nigga, Sean Garrett
Nigga slang rock, high eighty, where the fuck is Harry?
And the meth house did eighty, boy, we wholesalin'
And the AMG do zero to eighty, V12 in it
And the bitch and the whip European, I'm from Great Britain
My lil' nigga need some therapy, he can't stop killin'
I'm in the field pickin' cocoa leaves, you a house nigga
And it's fucked up I used to hand-to-hand women
And it's fucked up we shoot guns in front of children
What's your bankroll like? Mine big as hell
I ain't dyin', I'ma get rich or go to jail
Birds of a feather flock together and they die as well
When that soda and that yola lock, it go on sale
We ain't worried 'bout no murder case, millions for the bail
We'll make it snow today, tomorrow, it'll hail
Got on a mink for the snowstorm
Nigga, I'm in the ice rink with my skates on
Fucked your bitch off the E, hardcore porn
So geeked, I ain't even put the rubber on
Hundred a week, fuck you talkin' 'bout, the border closed?
Bitch, and we still ain't cheap, boy, you really gotta order those
I done threw away twenty-five flip phones
Talkin' to the plug, we get our whisper on (Jimbo)
I got Anti on my jeans, I am not friendly
APs, Rolexes, the motive is that Richard Mille
Got on thousand-dollar jeans with a fifty in it
Half of it pink fifties, other half blue Benjis
Tough nigga hoodrich, but a hundred million, that's the motive
You still on bullshit, boy, I'm like Phil with the scold
Chopper ten bricks, but a hundred of 'em, that's the motive
I'm back rollin', I got focused, they don't like that shit
I got these grown niggas hurt hurt
I heard you niggas hit rock bottom, Big Herk
On my Guwop shit, put his ass in the dirt
Ho, I thought you need these blue tips, get Hotboy Turk
R.I.P. DeDe, gave my brother twelve as a juvenile
R.I.P. Skinny, can't believe this shit comin' out my mouth
Ain't shit pretty, I ain't been havin' shit to really smile about
Soul empty while I'm in here sittin' this big-ass house



Credits
Writer(s): Delante Landrum
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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