Mailed To Obama

This rap shit is in me
I just had pause for a minute ain't think about giving up
She don't know what she feeling
It's like 20 shots in my pants I'm keeping my blickey tucked
Got tired of the old one my daddy smell it nomo came back new F 150 truck
Bruce Lee and Tucker only gotta hour with me she say damn why you tryna rush
35plus twenty five, ran up a 60 now I'm really talking numbers
Try express my feelings they ain't really care about it so I mailed to Obama
This shit be foul can't see his dawg nomo & get to clutching on the coner
Tryna pull me way down I can tell by the way she pullin' all up on me

He ain't push up
They ain't push up
They ain't push up
We the ones pushed up on em

He so damn high can't even look at his brain
It's some folks I can't even look the same
He High as plane & he fly as a plane
You won't even reach, don't even reach this chain
It's holding weight boy I'm keeping my name
It's some folks I can't even look the same

Yahhh

Fine shit I put her in Flawless baguette
But it's to bad I ain't met a flawless one yet
Ik some models want bottles and sex
I sip it once then pour out for the rest
I just be dressing don't care to impress
Smith had put em on I told him I only got Za Za but he from the Mid-West
Member I got news about Savanna
I couldn't even sleep that night
Me and trip in the garage playing 2k fucked round drunk the whole pint
I'm the type of nigga do my work and get my work done
I'm type of nigga you can't play cause I ain't going for nun

Middle of school I had to rush to mobile just to go bury my granny
Thank god for my grandma
This my blood, sweat, & tears all combined on a beat and this just how it come out
Blame it on corona ain't seen lot of niggas face in years.
They just can't come out
What the fuck is you talm bout?
I ain't cry we could've died that night but the whip ain't flip
You got to be prepared for anything so I brought a extra clip
It was no waffles in sight grabbed me gun and tighten my Grip
He knowing if he try it I'm gone finish him

Ohh Yea yah

This rap shit is in me
I just had pause for a minute ain't think about giving up
She don't know what she feeling it's like 20 shots in my pants I'm keeping my blickey Tucked
Got tired of the old one my daddy smell it nomo came back new F 150 truck
Bruce Lee and Tucker only gotta hour with me she say damn why you rush
35plus twenty five, ran up a 60 now I'm really talking numbers
Try express my feelings they ain't really care about it so I mailed it to Obama
This shit be foul he can't see his dawg nomo & get to clutching on the corner
Tryna pull me way down I can by the way she pulling all up on me

Peep the way she pulling all up on me
Pop out Saint Laurent be my aroma
My brother gone pop out Dior fragrance
Believe me the paper is being chased
He ain't signed but a Billion Dollar Baby
What you do when ain't no other way
What's gone happen when ain't another play
What if you finally drop another song
But they ain't really feeling what you saying
Got dirt threw on you by ya mans
It's kool now cause we ain't friends
Ya Ya
We gone get up with you like the fan
Crazy how they caught em' and watch that boy freeze up and say u got the wrong man Holding out his hands

(Lill)

My position way 2 advanced

Did some flaw shit cut his tongue out
He said it was all love
I just put my feelings in a coat
& hung em all up
He ain't tall
so he gone stack his money tall up
If you loyal, I love you, it's all love

Yeahhh ahhhh

She just a case cause that shit beat
You think it's deep right now shit gone get deeper
You don't fuck me I don't fuck you neither
I'm tryna get some shit buss off the meter
I caught her head, but I ain't gone say it was the best I just call her incredible thinker
He in his own world
Really Fightin' Demons
Young'N Got the sauce and he chief'N

Yeah they be like whatchu call em'
Don't care what you call him
Young'N Buss off the meter.
Yeah they be like Whatchu call it
Don't care what you call him
Young'N Buss off the meter.

Chop shit, Buss off the meter
Buss off the meter
Buss off the meter
Buss off the meter

Fine shit I put her in Flawless baguette
But it's to bad I ain't met a flawless one yet
Ik some models want bottles and sex
I sip it once then pour out for the rest
I just be dressing don't care to impress
Smith had put em on I told him I only got Za Za but he from the Mid-West
Member I got news about Savanna
I couldn't even sleep that night
Me and trip in the garage playing 2k fucked round drunk the whole pint
I'm the type of nigga do my work and get my work done
I'm type of nigga you can't play cause I ain't going for nun



Credits
Writer(s): Kalil White
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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