Dead Vines

Alright, this is uh, the song I've been working on, it's new

There's dead vines in a twine on a rusty old paint-chipped fence
I'm trying to make it make sense, the muddy waters seem dense
The first steps bring stress, road designer, phone ringing
That's my future baby mama, bitch bad as a karma

I usually take all bitches garments off when they slide on my bed
With them coats from outside, no suck, my daddy gave it to him straight
And to this day I'm the exact same way, in these weird times
I had to get myself an Uzi and my brother Renan

Whatever happens is fine, we ain't stressed, niggas sippin' this wine
With the dollars we investin' this time
And we ain't never asked for you to say shit
Just leave this off your fuckin' playlist
Niggas is plaintiffs like bitches complainin'

Pitchin' me gainin', flipped my last couple dollars remainin'
We maintainin', still faintin', the dog food make you feel the jazz
It's like lean without the taste in his eyes
I used to say fuck it, now I find myself chasin' this cash
It's shorty can't eat no bugs, rather catch a loop, fuck a juke

I rub bows with crooks, when they was tenin' you could tell them
That they soon become businessmen
My nigga dropped a pale crack when he took his soul back
My nigga dropped a pale crack when he took his soul back

So I ain't bad, bring it back
A long way from K to Cadillac
It's blown stress and it's CTS
We stealin' mad shit from CVS
Mad shit from CVS