Bye

My tracks got shorter
Cuz y'all barely listen
It's hard for y'all to change
Like to find a quarter nigga
Maybe I was dreaming
Thinking that we all grew up
In a suburban ass neighborhood
So we can't act hood
I met a lot of stand up niggas
And they polar opposites
Funny how they attract
Then someone calls the cops on us
I guess cuz my skin
And the way that my kin came up
Maybe me fucking a white girl
Is like shooting her racist daddy
With a gun
And it's whose at fault for it
She was like she love it
So I guess gonna ignore it
My mind was racing
Looking for another whore
With a pension
Tryna fund a business
With good dick she'll buy me anything
On my wishlist
Yeah
I need some new jeans
And my nikes they too worn out
Just like she,

Yo my tracks got shorter
Cuz y'all barely listen
Ion mean to point the finger
But I aim it at myself
Cuz I ain't no gangsta ass
Rapping ass
Drug dealing two bit
Gun toter
With a knack for killing niggas in cold blood and show up to they funerals like we was blood
This ain't even that serious
Niggas dumb head delirious
Call you Eddy Murphy
Cuz u got all these jokes
You think I'm silly or sum
I can spit shit slicker
Than a angry nigger
Who eats snickers
Word to my cotton
Picker ancestors
On my momma man
Check it
I wrote this whole tape
Tryna relate to the future
Maybe I was too silly at times



Credits
Writer(s): Traynor Minor Jr
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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