It's Over
(Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh)
(Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh)
(I put codeine in my cup, I'm never sober)
(Bitch it's over)
I put codeine in my cup, I'm never sober
I just hit my lil' freak bitch and said it's over
Trackhawk big as hell, bitch this ain't a Rover
I can't fuck with that lil' bitch, she always on one
Yeah she on one
She ain't even my main but she want something
I ain't fuckin' with that bitch, she always want something
Bitch get off my dick
You can't get it 'cause you ain't want none
Back when I was broke but now you want some
Make it make sense
If it ain't 'bout no bands, it don't make sense
I got wings on my jeans, ain't no fake shit
I count racks like Mr. Beast but I don't fake shit
Aye
Broke and lame, you can stay up out my face bitch
I just pulled up on your hoe, she gave me face bitch
Then I hit this one white bitch and she was racist
But she love this black dick, she love to taste it
Fell in love with the way I made her take it
And I ain't cuffing your lil' hoe, that bitch too basic
Stuff a quarter in my wood then I faced it
With a muddy ass cup, don't sip no fake shit
I put codeine in my cup, I'm never sober
I just hit my lil' freak bitch and said it's over
Trackhawk big as hell, bitch this ain't a Rover
I can't fuck with that lil' bitch, she always on one
Yeah she on one
She ain't even my main but she want something
I ain't fuckin' with that bitch, she always want something
Bitch get off my dick
You can't get it 'cause you ain't want none
Back when I was broke but now you want some
Make it make sense
If it ain't 'bout no bands, it don't make sense
I got wings on my jeans, ain't no fake shit
I count racks like Mr. Beast but I don't fake shit
(Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh)
(I put codeine in my cup, I'm never sober)
(Bitch it's over)
I put codeine in my cup, I'm never sober
I just hit my lil' freak bitch and said it's over
Trackhawk big as hell, bitch this ain't a Rover
I can't fuck with that lil' bitch, she always on one
Yeah she on one
She ain't even my main but she want something
I ain't fuckin' with that bitch, she always want something
Bitch get off my dick
You can't get it 'cause you ain't want none
Back when I was broke but now you want some
Make it make sense
If it ain't 'bout no bands, it don't make sense
I got wings on my jeans, ain't no fake shit
I count racks like Mr. Beast but I don't fake shit
Aye
Broke and lame, you can stay up out my face bitch
I just pulled up on your hoe, she gave me face bitch
Then I hit this one white bitch and she was racist
But she love this black dick, she love to taste it
Fell in love with the way I made her take it
And I ain't cuffing your lil' hoe, that bitch too basic
Stuff a quarter in my wood then I faced it
With a muddy ass cup, don't sip no fake shit
I put codeine in my cup, I'm never sober
I just hit my lil' freak bitch and said it's over
Trackhawk big as hell, bitch this ain't a Rover
I can't fuck with that lil' bitch, she always on one
Yeah she on one
She ain't even my main but she want something
I ain't fuckin' with that bitch, she always want something
Bitch get off my dick
You can't get it 'cause you ain't want none
Back when I was broke but now you want some
Make it make sense
If it ain't 'bout no bands, it don't make sense
I got wings on my jeans, ain't no fake shit
I count racks like Mr. Beast but I don't fake shit
Credits
Writer(s): Christian Marshall
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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