Similar Songs
Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Chris Smith
Songwriter
Lyrics
Yea
Soul been gone
Mind been gone
Leave me alone
Leave me alone, leave me alone
Ian never did you wrong
Ho’s in my phone
Money in my phone
Hit a call tone
Don’t wanna pick up, don’t wanna feel no mo
Ho’s gon be ho’s
I can never fold
Sold my soul, now I can’t go, I can’t fold, I can’t fold
All the lean that I pour up
Sippin drank till I throw up
**** don’t wanna go up
Bitch y’all don’t wanna blow up
And these **** not on nun
Sendin bullets, I throw sum
**** fake, like they on sum
**** ain’t on nun, I put a band on my bro now
**** im him, don’t give a fuck bout a pronoun
I'm so damn high, watch me float out
Smokin on gas, it’s so loud
And them bullets gon fuck up the whole crowd
**** want smoke, it can go down
Got a moncler, for the cold now
This shit not fair, without these ho’s round
Man I spray the clip and shoot the whole round
I got mo money than my whole town
**** down bad, yea they low down
Wanna speed up, never slow down
And my brudda need me, ima hold ‘em down
Got a FN bet it blow down
**** so broke, yea they hoe’d out
Benz truckin when I roll out
Lambo when I slide in
These **** really hidin
Presidential, like I’m Biden
Bitch ****, Ian fighting
Big shovel in my right hand
Work them bands, and I like em
Still feel like I’m dyin
Yea
Soul been gone
Mind been gone
Leave me alone
Leave me alone, leave me alone
Ian never did you wrong
Ho’s in my phone
Money on my phone
Hit a call tone
Don’t wanna pick up, don’t wanna feel no mo
Ho’s gon be ho’s
I can never fold
Sold my soul, now I can’t go, I can’t fold, I can’t fold
Written by: Chris Smith