Doubted Myself

[Intro]
Yeah
Yeay (Yeah)
Why, why, why, why, why
Bitch
(Where the sheets and funnel at, Spizz?)
We really havin' this motherfucker turnt
(Alright, nigga)
(Why, why, why)

[Chorus]
Fucked up when I doubted myself, running the endzone off of the scale
Looked up, junkies jumpin' the shelf, I'ma stay in the mix 'til I get me a deal
Five percent tint, its a veil, having the sale, check in the mail
Hot tote, dogs at the tail, running the field, send 'em to hell

[Verse 1]
Knock off his head if he run up on me
I need the gold, bet it come with a key
Baseball, chopper swing
Bent like a ring
Four stones on me, The Thing (Ha)
Shells ring bells like ding (Bitch)
I'm a machine
My money is more than a fling (Ha)
I know you're broke and it sting (Ha)
What can you bring?
Why don't you get with the team?
No, I can't feel you, I'm feeling conservative
I'ma go hard to show you what determined is
I want 'em dead, capisce, affermative
Spilled clean on my white tee, damn, I dirtied it
Ziploc like fifteen and bury it
You might not like me, I Curry it
Industry on one knee, I murdered it
Bring the whole hood with me like Harriet
Big and I'm bad, the Glock fifty capacity
Put you on a platter, the robbers be asking me
I'm a possession, I up it in blasphemy
Get hit in the chest, split it open, apostrophe
They never liked me, I feel like a oddity
In me, not on me, so shit is a part of me
Hundreds a zip, what I'm smokin' is quality
You smoke kill, plug owe you apology

[Chorus]
Fucked up when I doubted myself, running the endzone off of the scale
Looked up, junkies jumpin' the shelf, I'ma stay in the mix 'til I get me a deal
Five percent tint, its a veil, having the sale, check in the mail
Hot tote, dogs at the tail, running the field, send 'em to hell

[Verse 2]
I eat Ruth's Chris and you eating at Applebee's
Hittin' on shit, somehow shorty was mad at me
Maybe it's real but just maybe it's Maybelline
No, I'm not broke, but I can't never save a thing
Taxin' they ass, niggas know when to pay the king
Tried not to crash driving work from the A to B
Get hit with the chop like I'm eating some meat soup
Three out of five, now I'm caught in the beat too
He want a half but I brought out the gallon
They ain't on point, shorty sharper than talons
You really active then prepare for that action
Your bro smacked you but ended up in a casket
Shows over, bitch, pistols clappin'
Chasin' smoke, I was only reactin'
Call this countin' just addin'
You gon' cry on the bus or end up on Madden?

[Chorus]
Fucked up when I doubted myself, running the endzone off of the scale
Looked up, junkies jumpin' the shelf, I'ma stay in the mix 'til I get me a deal
Five percent tint, its a veil, having the sale, check in the mail
Hot tote, dogs at the tail, running the field, send 'em to hell