fickle
Are you sick? Are you dripped? Yeah yeah yeah
Save the pic, flavor it, yeah yeah yeah
Walk around saying this and that
Don't tell me you told everybody that you get the bag
'Cus you a fake fuck, turn it off, you ain't making hits, bruh
I got thousands of dollars under my list of
Who you are and who you wanna be
Yo girl don't wanna rock a beat
Reluctancy to fuckin' tell a sorry cheat
You're way too insecure
Quit making fickle slurs
You're trying way too hard to be the shit, yeah
But imma tell you that shit ain't gon' get you this far
Back, back, back it up now
I see you packing up your bags, wrap it up now
'Cus you ain't going nowhere
You getting no shares
Why would you go there?
All the time, you don't care
You rap about shit but you ain't living it
I see your tracks all the time, got me feeling pissed
Give it up now, wont make a buck now
You talk about that Range Rover but it wont be found
'Cus imma drive through in my Mach-EX
You talk a lot of big game but you wont be next
I'm fucking on that bitch raw, I got no protection
You pull up to the studio but you choke the session
'Cus I hit that bitch, one take, and I send it
My lyrics come from real shit, no pretending
Fucking scrap that new song 'cus it's so pretentious
Pitch your vocals down but your words got no expression
You a fake fuck, turn it off, you ain't making hits, bruh
I got thousands of dollars under my list of
Who you are and who you wanna be
Yo girl don't wanna rock a beat
Reluctancy to fuckin' tell a sorry cheat
You're way too insecure
Quit making fickle slurs
You're trying way too hard to be the shit, yeah
But imma tell you that shit ain't gon' get you this far
Fake fuck, turn it off, you ain't making hits, bruh
I got thousands of dollars under my list of
Who you are and who you wanna be
Yo girl don't wanna rock a beat
Reluctancy to fuckin' tell a sorry cheat
Save the pic, flavor it, yeah yeah yeah
Walk around saying this and that
Don't tell me you told everybody that you get the bag
'Cus you a fake fuck, turn it off, you ain't making hits, bruh
I got thousands of dollars under my list of
Who you are and who you wanna be
Yo girl don't wanna rock a beat
Reluctancy to fuckin' tell a sorry cheat
You're way too insecure
Quit making fickle slurs
You're trying way too hard to be the shit, yeah
But imma tell you that shit ain't gon' get you this far
Back, back, back it up now
I see you packing up your bags, wrap it up now
'Cus you ain't going nowhere
You getting no shares
Why would you go there?
All the time, you don't care
You rap about shit but you ain't living it
I see your tracks all the time, got me feeling pissed
Give it up now, wont make a buck now
You talk about that Range Rover but it wont be found
'Cus imma drive through in my Mach-EX
You talk a lot of big game but you wont be next
I'm fucking on that bitch raw, I got no protection
You pull up to the studio but you choke the session
'Cus I hit that bitch, one take, and I send it
My lyrics come from real shit, no pretending
Fucking scrap that new song 'cus it's so pretentious
Pitch your vocals down but your words got no expression
You a fake fuck, turn it off, you ain't making hits, bruh
I got thousands of dollars under my list of
Who you are and who you wanna be
Yo girl don't wanna rock a beat
Reluctancy to fuckin' tell a sorry cheat
You're way too insecure
Quit making fickle slurs
You're trying way too hard to be the shit, yeah
But imma tell you that shit ain't gon' get you this far
Fake fuck, turn it off, you ain't making hits, bruh
I got thousands of dollars under my list of
Who you are and who you wanna be
Yo girl don't wanna rock a beat
Reluctancy to fuckin' tell a sorry cheat
Credits
Writer(s): Nick Layman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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