Realistic

Okay, cool

They don't want you to win, shit get wicked
Said they don't want me to win, shit get wicked
Got some lean and Percocet, I'ma mix it
Talking about that [?] but this shit get tricky
Shit get, shit get realistic
Talking about, why don't you open your eyes and see this shit a lil' different
Fuck it, I got a point to prove, go big on bigger
Looked the Devil right in his eye, hit him with that glizzy
With that

With that blicky
I don't like to go outside, shit get messy
Motherfuckers like to choose sides like aim and hit you
I'm so high, got scared of my shadow, it hit me
It hit me (Drugs), it hit me (Drugs)
Get high like hippies (Drugs)
Get high, get trippy (Drugs)
Special delivery, I'm at your door like you sent me
No, why you hate on me? Why you resent me?
And I do this shit like I do it
Ho I do this shit to the truest
Said she like me, eat my kids, said they taste just like some fruities
I got big widebody, she got a big ole wide booty
I gotta hit from the back so I can feel it on my tummy
Tattoos on my stomach
Told lil' baby, relax, she ain't even real-life mad
The bitch for the streets so I laugh, it's kinda funny
This bitch want my autograph

They don't want you to win, shit get wicked
Said they don't want me to win, shit get wicked
Got some lean and Percocet, I'ma mix it
Talking about that [?] but this shit get tricky
Shit get, shit get realistic
Talking about, why don't you open your eyes and see this shit a lil' different
Fuck it, I got a point to prove, go big on bigger
Looked the Devil right in his eye, hit him with that glizzy
With that



Credits
Writer(s): Troy Vashon Donte Lane
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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