Homicide

歌詞

To fuck with me you lucky and you know it Put your phone off, bitch, you tweakin', tryin' to record Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it They throwin' shots, ain't hit shit, trying my best to ignore it She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off He tryna get under my skin and diss me, he tryna get off You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off? I catch my man it ain't no question, I'ma get off Yellow bitch, yellow diamonds, ooh, I'm pissed off The way she love me and she fuck me, ooh she gettin' off He talking hard, approach him, watch how fast he get soft Rapid fire, nothin' stop him, choppers lettin' off If I catch you I'm gettin' off I'm tryna knock your whole shit off You and your mans too, I'll drop the bag on the whole crew Ben be suffocating, the hundreds they be all blue I'm on a whole 'nother level, the bitches, they all-new Speaking of bitches, a bitch tryna get off on Instagram 'cause I fell back Why you ain't make a post how you fucked the clique, bitch go tell that, hah These rappers tryna sneak diss, tryna get off to get on, hah Catch their ass in public, they gon' get right and get gone To fuck with me you lucky and you know it Put your phone off, bitch, you tweakin', tryin' to record Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it They throwin' shots, ain't hit shit, trying my best to ignore it She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off He tryna get under my skin and diss me, he tryna get off You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off? I catch my man it ain't no question, I'ma get off Before the rap money, young nigga was ballin' way before it I don't do no talkin', I drop a bag on 'em then nigga you know it I bought me a pint of that Hi-Tech, I crack it and pour it I crunch up the X, end up in my mouth, you know that I throw it She all in my section, she steady keep pressin', but no, she don't know it When I'm up in Texas, I ride with that Wesson, just me and my boys I swear it's controlling me, seventeen, got four sons Tryna go cop me 'bout four foreigns Studio on the bus, I'm touring I swear I don't put no effort in these songs Bet these niggas pissed off, mad at me and Bagg, aw Grandma gone, I hold it down No I won't flock, I keep it strong These bitches be aching, I steady be raking So when I'm recording, don't call my phone To fuck with me you lucky and you know it Put your phone off, bitch, you tweakin', tryin' to record Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it They throwin' shots, ain't hit shit, trying my best to ignore it She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off He tryna get under my skin and diss me, he tryna get off You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off? I catch my man it ain't no question, I'ma get off