Residue

I got a habit I need to confess

I went from a nigga on the couch, splitting rent, to a provider
I'm struggling adjusting to my life now
Break a ball down and it's fishcale, it's fire
Pray it ain't no fentanyl, my sons need me alive
Don't forget my baby moms, I love her
But I'm still tempted by the flesh, can we fuck her too?
I can't help I'm trying do it how I like
I'm married to the money so my bitch my second wife
I'll be the first to admit
I'm doing the most, I never had shit
So I bought the drum and the forty round clip
You know that I'm spending a grip
I don't hold back regarding my kin
And I ain't no trick, but I trick on my bitch
Funny thing is, they thought I would live off a woman
That ain't what I meant when I said that I'm pimpin'
It mean what I say I'm a get, I'm a get it
No offense
My grass is green behind this fence
They wishing me well, but they'd laugh if I slip
I miss all my niggaz but shout out to Prince
I MISS ALL MY NIGGAZ BUT SHOUTOUT TO PRINCE
You know how we coming
I don't want no seed money
I brought weed money
But I got that key money
I got enough for six keys, fuck it
Open the door
I been had a chip on my shoulder
Pussy and weed
Been changing my life since corona
New year, old me
You can't touch me with a nosebleed
Back back, nigga six feet
Bruce Bowen, give her just D
This Dior, you niggaz musty
I don't want her, you can trust me
Honestly, she beneath me
You could get her back easy
I ain't never said I'm nothing I wasn't
But niggaz still say I'm preaching
You niggaz hacking and reaching
But if you reaching then I'm teaching



Credits
Writer(s): Jayson Johns
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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