Empty Space

Popping the mollies I'm late to the party
Tell your girl to get off me
Counting my money up to the ceiling
Got your bitch in her feelings
I like to do things my way yeah
My head up in space
Flying around in a wraith yeah
Gucci the lace

Ralph on me I'm rocked out
Hit up that hoe like a knockout
VVS diamond be shining out
She be wanting my Johnny now
In camo like the army now
Flooded my rollie like the Nile now
Your girl be changing her bio now
Haters think they got the style
Smoking the dope counting the dough
Spend racks at the store
I make money my way
If you don't
get the fuck out my face
I got the spice bring the melange
Cast our feelings away
Head in the clouds
Light up a pound
Up up and away

Popping the mollies I'm late to the party
Tell your girl to get off me
Counting my money up to the ceiling
Got your bitch in her feelings
I like to do things my way yeah
My head up in space
Flying around in a wraith yeah
Gucci the lace

J-Snow back never fucking left don't think about it yeah
Hopping on the track
Made a couple million what about it yeah
I got that Ice On Me
You gone hear all about it yeah
Okay
J-Snow
Swiping that Visa I'm in Ibiza you in a Subaru
I bought a Patek
I'm at the pool
I got your boo-boo
Fuck around shawty
She about forty she want my goo goo
Pull the Glock I go pew pew
Now you on the floor I go boo-hoo
Forty-four bitches in my Jeep man
Yeah I bought a car I don't lease it
I'm at the Neimans I give her no reason
To gimme some fucking attitude
I don't got patience
No I ain't waiting
For your shitty mood too
All this shit I being doing they fucking around
Where's my gratitude
Check my latitude
Bought a plane ticket I'm out foo
Flying first class we fucking
Call her right back it's something more
Got me lining up outside her door
I'm the only one she open for
She doing the bridge I'm all on that
Then I dip out you can have her back



Credits
Writer(s): Jacob Eastman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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