Lost Forever (feat. Boogi3.43)

They want me to lose
They don't want me to win
They don't want me to stack
They want me to starve
You ain't cooling with bro
You ain't cooling with me
You ain't fucking with us
We ain't fucking with y'all
Not at all
I'm appalled
I'm on the move
Like i'm driving a haul
Cop online
Don't got no time
To wait on a line
I don't be at the mall
Ima get right momma
Don't stress it
I'm a poet
I'm feeling like becket
I spit what I want them to hear
I ain't telling them secrets
I ain't giving them leverage
They ain't using my shit as a weapon

Put on a show
Like the young and the restless
Scratching my shit off the checklist
I will hold on a grudge
I don't dead shit
I'm the 1 ya still don't get it
Balling like we up in rivet
Look on the board
I put up them digits
I put up them digits
I don't really rap about my trauma
Why would I wanna relive it?
Why would I wanna relive it?
The shit I been through
They can not relate
I've been keeping it real
So hold on just wait
Give me some time
I'm paving the way
I'm holding you down
So don't play in my face
It's not over night bitch
It don't take a day
If y'all need me
Y'all got me on speed dial
Gotta go to china ni hao
I got money
They fuckin with me now
If I miss yo 3 get the rebound
We gotta world to see now

There was sometimes I was losing my shit
I was down bad
Haar to lace up my kicks
Niggas be hating
You know I can't fold
I come from the trench
Had to trap in the cold
Feeling like Odin
With a crow on my shoulder
I ride with a chop
Stand point like a soldier
Sometimes I be lost
Put some wock ina soda
You know it's some gas
By the smell of the odor
I pull up to Trinidad
Me and a bad bitch dance to soca
She a nasty lil bitch
She wanna fuck on the sofa
Back on that shit
Young rich nigga
Dripping in loafers
It's 3 you know I stay a hunnit
Chasing the bag
You know I really want it
Like Chris brown ima run it

They want me to lose
They don't want me to win
They don't want me to stack
They want me to starve
You ain't cooling with bro
You ain't cooling with me
You ain't fucking with us
We ain't fucking with y'all
Not at all
I'm appalled
I'm on the move
Like i'm driving a haul
Cop online
Don't got no time
To wait on a line
I don't be at the mall
Ima get right momma
Don't stress it
I'm a poet
I'm feeling like becket
I spit what I want them to hear
I ain't telling them secrets
I ain't giving them leverage
They ain't using my shit as a weapon



Credits
Writer(s): Boogie Three
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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