No self control on my own alone in niggas to loathe when the money go missing
My wallet in my rib cage I love love enough for comfort knowing money go with it
I told her whether you like it or not this shit of ours tied in a knot I can’t hold it no more
Ion think these venules supposed to hold venom or
Ion think exposure to this cold is for a
Nigga boy
Ion even know if all these probes is worth bigger toys
I be talking shit that it ain’t english words fitting for
I be in the bottom of the barrel
In the studio was raised in just consumed in my vocation that or loopy in rotation that or
In the oven shooting movies with some brothers youthful stupor cross our faces