TYPE C

Way too many stories, I don't see no author
I got a iPhone, but need a C-type charger
Bitch, I'm known to handle killers, call me Chris Scarver
She can't even handle it At the dispensary when I get talking to her
Now I'm over here sampling In the car cut lights, I'm vanishing

Window go up and the diamonds dancing
Like, "where'd they learn that shit?"
You drive that car, you don't deserve that shit
Ayy, see my tints
Window go up and the diamonds hit
Ayy, run up on the goddamn clique

Ayy, window go down, gun click Yeah, all of this off of the Rip
5-5-5, got spider on me And low-key, more than the rain
When I flood these streets Low-key, with the way that I stay in the field
I need some cleats I feel like a bear

I be getting the honey, but fighting the bees Ayy, when I talk about Gs
Nigga, shut up, you are not like me
Wipe them tears, it's not that deep
You wouldn't wanna see the shit that I see in my sleep
Tryna catch a bag, you cannot even catch your shadow

If you cannot tell, I rapped the shit after smoking gelato
Yeah, step by step through the cemetery Only noise you hear is me
Shaking my arm cause my wrist a little heavy Now that I said it, well, evidently
All the ghosts are here and I'm grabbing on my lefty

Target Practice bitch, I'm shooting ghosts in my dreams
Remember what I said, you wouldn't wanna see what I see in my sleep
Take it back to reality, for real, like, actually
Only thing coming back is my wrist still heavy

Way too many stories in this building, world is turning
On my dish, yo, bank limit they serving And big-body, bulletproof insurgent
Scam check, I be selling like a merchant
Snakes in the grass, cut heads off serpents
Claim you got flow, you don't swim with the current

I'm paying your rent, but instead on insurance I fuck on your bitch and now she reassuring
Did she mean to cheat? I'm sure
I'm bringing it all back to earth
Ayy, BFL, you heard her first