F1

Yeah, I had to send him a message
Just so he know I can hear it
That boy ain't gettin' no money, just focus on you
Stop talkin' bout my appearance
Music has been in my genes, that denim you got ain't Amiri
He dumb, he incoherent
Lil bro, why is you dissin'?
Sayin' you hated my shit, but you still listen
Bitch, I be showin' I'm different
I put your hoe into different positions
Music is blarin', it fuck up my hearin'
We gettin' money, the fuck is your mission?
He sendin' smoke, no carbon emission
Stuck in your ways, you ain't got no vision
Think I was talkin' about you, re-listen
I know that main character syndrome hittin'

You just general admission
Walk as a group, you ain't New Edition
Talkin' about you, that's easy pickens
I want me a house with a gate like Nixon
You not a hot boy, you a hothead like Vixen
Nobody know you, not in the spotlight, Pippen
You livin' the same damn day like Groundhog Day, I'm really livin' (uh huh)
Look at my teeth like Chip Skylark that shit be glistenin'
Why you be all in my business?
Yeah, you more worried bout me than makin' some digits
Doin' the same damn shit that him a sentence
You gotta do more than visit
Bounce right back and I'm makin' a bag real quick, bitch
I feel like Porziņģis

My mind racin' like the F1s
Seen them bitches, I just F'd one
Wearin' all white, new pair AF1s
Talkin' about my job, but he ain't got one
Talkin' about my songs, but he ain't got one
Uh-huh

Lil' bitch, I got plenty
Only set, you be reppin' is heavy
Stay in the group of three, I feel like Ed Edd n' Eddy
Get to the sack like Reggie
I be high on life, sometimes I don't need that Medi
80 degrees and I'm cold sweatin'
Yeah, she fuck with Tribe, got "Good Intentions"
Might just Navajo (Nav a hoe)
Ya'll be on a screen all day just like a pick and roll
High school was your prime, you're scared to fall off like it's vertigo
He know he ain't got no flow
He know he ain't got no motion

I'm just countin' bills like Buffalo
You always talkin' bout some shells like Michelangelo
I got the Antidote like Rodeo
I pop fly shit like D-Lone
Pop fly shit like UFO
They surroundin' shit like stereo
Just like Lancey they wan' be Foes (Foux)
Yeah
Bad bitch, Rocky friendship
I might go the distance
And she givin' out that S.N.A.P like government assistance
Yeah, do this by myself, self-substance
Like how my shit sound better, but you had real sessions?

My mind racin' like the F1s
See them bitches, I just F'd one
Wearin' all white, new pair AF1s
Talkin' bout my job, but he ain't got one
Talkin' bout my songs, but he ain't got one

Uh-huh



Credits
Writer(s): Bryce Wagner
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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