Gone

Yeah, I’m coutin’ up the dough
I can never trust a hoe
That n**** finna fold
Kill-tek get him gone
N**** lame, he a troll
Yeah, I’m smoking on dope
New Glock with a scope
My money long like a rope

I got racks on me, yeah
That boy want a feat, no
Smoking good gas, yeah, bitch I’m smoking tree (Ha)
[?] that shit ain’t cheap (Ah)

I know that he want my swag, he wanna be me
These n**** can’t see me
[?]
I know his bitch feigning
Pockets fat like gleen-gleen
In that trackhawk, got that lil hoe screaming
[?] be that money counter beeping
Lying to these hoes, yeah, them secrets I be keeping
Bitch I’m off a X pill, you know that I’m tweaking

Call up Devin, I’ma see if he gon [?], yeah
Call up Tecca, yeah, he gon tote that stick
Yeah
Yeah, he gon tote that stick, yeah
Got them 100 rounds, yeah, we got them clips, yeah
Shawty wanna fuck with me, yeah, she seen I’m the shit, yeah
Got that Glock on me, gon hit him in his lips, yeaahhh

Nahh
Ahh
Bitch I’m ‘bout my cash, I’m bout my bags woah
N**** talk down on me, XD hit him [?] woah
Shout-out to my n**** Justin, yeah he keep it tucked
She mad at me, she done had enough
Throwin’ hunnids, put him in a [?]
I can’t wife the hoe, hell nah, I can’t cuff
Smoking good gas, you know that I’m stuck

[Outro]

“happy anniversary!”