Rap Politics

I got ten black cars, at the venue

I don't rap politic, tell me what you into

I don't rap politic, tell me what you into

I don't rap politic, tell me what you into

A hustler going corporate (For real)

Preparation prevent poor performance

Pray my karma, it don't come back on my daughters

Ho say she lit up from them cribs, just bring some water

Labels sending deals, but I keep turning down they offers (Respect)

It ain't bout the money, can't put that in my coffin

I got the clerk confused, I'm buying cups, no coffee

I'm the chosen one, frozen up

I did Hutch and Golden Sun

Got my coins up, like Temple Run

Must not know 'bout Yode run

Must not know 'bout Randy's son

Baby boy, the one who ran it up

Ain't signing shit, until they put my family up

I won't crack a smile until I'm puttin' Grammy's up

You just touched your first hunnid? That's doin' bad to us

I'm a frienemy or enemy

Don't waste your time try @'ing me

Want these kicks, gotta wait a week

Custom Goyard baggage me

Sorry, but I'm fuckin' fans, bad bitches keep taggin' me

Old ****, they're sending threats to me 'cause they ain't next to me

Bitch ****, they think I owe them something but ain't invest in me

They keep on talking twenty K, decline respectfully

Call my phone back-to-back, the bank must got a check for me

You can tell I never had shit, I'm driving recklessly

I got ten black cars, at the venue

I don't rap politic, tell me what you into

I don't rap politic, tell me what you into

I don't rap politic, tell me what you into

From in these streets, to industry

Can't let codeine finish me

Don't let old friends that I cut off tell you that we enemies

All these hoes backstage tryna fuck, must think it's ten of me

Diamonds flashing, boxes gettin' wrapped up, I'm a Christmas tree

Rule number one, it ain't no postin', ain't no kissin' me

Rule number two, don't tell my business, that's gon' get you cut

Gotta watch my back, I sent the driver just to pick her up

Y'all know I'm a tipper, paid a thousand, just to get the cut

I damn near just set the club on fire, bottles lit it up

This shit ain't for you, if you fall off and you can't get back up

Lately, I ain't gotta say too much, to get your bitch to fuck

Brodie I got flavors for occasions, face we kitted up

Thirty-somethin' racks later, OD candy, did it up

Money low? Then get it up

Need a load? Come get with us

Hoes choose to swap it with my brodie, that ain't shit to us

I'm in London, say she like my accent, got the sprinter stuck

Eating beans, keepin' lean with me

Say she never seen fifty

My rich homeboy say, how much to bring with him

I love that bitch, man, I can't lie, but never see me with her

Got my jeans stuffed, this shit too much

Gon' bust the seams in it

I got ten black cars, at the venue

I don't rap politic, tell me what you into

I don't rap politic, tell me what you into

I don't rap politic, tell me what you into