Insomnia

[Chorus]
I just spilled the lean right on my Prada bag
And I can not sleep because I’m thinking bout these racks
And that’s not to mention all the good times that we had
If you fucking wit a bro then we pop you like a tag
And I don’t wanna text her
Smoking so much gas till my mother fucking chest hurt
I don’t really know how to let a bitch go
Imma pull up with a scope hit a stain on your bro
Shout out to the plug yeah I got it for the low

[Verse: Space]
I get to stitching like lilo
Looking through a sniper like a peephole
You tryna flex but you still want a feat though
And I feel like Shaq with the free throw
I’m finna pop me a perc or a bean uh-uh-uh
Hit from the back uh-uh-uh
I pull up on bro and it turn out he capping
If it’s not on my waist I keep it in my jacket

[Verse 2: Space]
She so bad why she fuck with me
Now a days feel like she don’t like my company
I always keep it a buck with me
It’s cause I’m stuck with me

[Chorus]
I just spilled the lean right on my Prada bag
And I can not sleep because I’m thinking bout these racks
And that’s not to mention all the good times that we had
If you fucking wit a bro then we pop you like a tag
And I don’t wanna text her
Smoking so much gas till my mother fucking chest hurt
I don’t really know how to let a bitch go
Imma pull up with a scope hit a stain on your bro
Shout out to the plug yeah I got it for the low

[Verse: Sholoh]
Nigga fuck around, and try me, get exposed
When I'm smoking on the pack, it be making you float
Hit that bitch from the back make her feel it in her toes
I don't fucking chitter chat, and even know you bro
I don't even fuck with her, just my next bitch
Keep that blade right on my right if she get hectic
You broke as hell why you keep on flexing
All you niggas tatter tells that's why i ain't 'cressin

[Verse 2: Sholoh]
Bitch I'm in the shit and finessing
Bitch i made you, ouu you pressing
Running to this bag but i got the Smith and Wesson
Bitch I'm gon' be rich all this money was so destined

[Chorus]
I just spilled the lean right on my Prada bag
And I can not sleep because I’m thinking bout these racks
And that’s not to mention all the good times that we had
If you fucking wit a bro then we pop you like a tag
And I don’t wanna text her
Smoking so much gas till my mother fucking chest hurt
I don’t really know how to let a bitch go
Imma pull up with a scope hit a stain on your bro
Shout out to the plug yeah I got it for the low