Lyrics

Facts, all these **** talkin' bout they got fuckin' racks
But really, these **** is fuckin' cap
I ain't even gon' lie, bitch, I'm bout to snap
I'm bout to pop my shit with them fuckin racks
But listen, I'ma tell you bout how my life go
All these young **** need scissors, get them Lipo,
but I'm from the east, where we gang bang & Pipe hoes,
man, these young **** weak, they really ain't fuckin' turnt
All these young **** talkin' shit, but really gettin' burnt
Man, I'm in my own lane, bitch, I'm really fuckin' turnt
Bitch, I really got a stain, bitch, I put one on a shirt
How the fuck you really trappin' and you don't got no footwork
Bitch, I'm really Ky, Ky, I got it from the dirt
Young **** really spazzin', bitch, I came up from the mud
Remember cutting grass, walk around the town
N get love, all these young **** doubting, but now these **** need a hug
Now they see me turnt up, now they wanna be my friend
Man, fuck you, fuck ****, bitch, these **** not my kin
And yeah, actin' all pretend like a baddie in the mix
I ain't leavin' no clues, I'm too focused on the blue
Focus on millions, I attract my dreams, I manifested this
Can't fuck with me, I'm too clean, I just seen the queen up in the mix
And if she do the ass down into the split
I'ma go full throttle like we in a blitz
Like, it's a team sport, but it's a Dolo mission
So I'ma take it by myself, UFC this
They hate it and they doubt it and they thought that I would quit
Well, ****, watch this
Watch this, watch this shit unfold
I'ma show you how the story go, write and produce it all
Comin' for the bank, what you think
Bitch, I'm stackin' gold
Stayin' out of politics, I'm way too blunt, I ain't no Pope
I was a poor **** on the street with no place to go
Now I'm on the brink to buildin' somethin' that's generational
Breakin' curses too, cut off all bad voodoo, shake it off my body
That bitch way too Fine, I call her Avery Friday
Written by: Gregory Lamont Smith, Malaky Howard
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