3 SMRS STR8

(Tell me about your feelings, tell-) ay, ay, ay, ay, ay I don't need nobody, I'd rather make- (tell me about your feelings, tell-) You know that part already I just gotta keep tellin' niggas 'Cause we all do drugs, we be forgettin' shit Ay, ay (Othello on the beat) I don't need nobody, I'd rather make nothin' outta nothin' I been rich for my third straight summer Make a Wraith burn rubber Goin' speeds we ain't even know it coulda I write raps, write a nigga name on a bullet Weak nigga let a bitch make him go against his brothers Spent 3300 on a plain black hoodie I'm sick of this, uh, huh, ay It's the shit that come with the shit Got in trouble for that ho, I had fun with that bitch I be treatin' you like a family, but it's blood in this shit Have you slimed? Have you snaked out your cousin and shit? Choose blood over water, throw codeine in the mix Hold on, I don't play no games, need to cut it, stop it If I was, she know to twist it, pull it, bop it In three days, I done poured like nine treys, fuck Tekashi If I deactivate my 'Gram, this shit'll piss off niggas' stylists They locked twin over servin' an informant, I got the crew ready These niggas catchin' DBs like Kool-Aid "How much for the pint?" You keep on tellin' me what you paid "I'm just tryna beat around the bush," this ain't charade I ain't never got a ho a purse and I ain't hit Sosa, he a dropout plug, dealin' high grade Oversized cap, the cropped tee look like it ain't fit Free the bros, I'ma die real, how I ain't shit? She want me to buy her a AP, but not on my watch She a Van Cleef junkie, buy her more, she'll probably OD A bitch come play with me twice, we was in OT Love ain't really love if you ain't willin' to die Put my dreams to the side, and I'm livin' 'em now Finally squashed shit with the Fives, killin' 'em now Ask a nigga from the bottom, do he remember the top? My mama told me not to trust a bitch Got us the one who they ain't fuckin' with Feel bad, gettin' too much with the sucker shit Ride, ride, windows down, pistol out, pint on me Just blew like 50 thou', that was light, homie Come sneak the pistol now, I got a knife on me You stab me in my back, do it Bankroll on me, all bluish Been tryna keep it kosher like I'm Jewish I don't fuck with niggas or they music Quit tellin' bitches that we got into it And you ain't dead, stupid (Tell me about your feelings, tell-) (Tell me about your feelings, tell-)