Pac-Man

[Intro]
(Damn, you went Beats Mode on this one)
Bro told me fuck 'em up, been goin' up since he said it
I can't entertain her texts, but I read it
(Pablo, you crazy for this one, haha)
Yeah

[Chorus]
Bro told me fuck 'em up, been goin' up since he said it
I can't entertain her texts, but I read it
Pockets itchin' for that money and fetish
Say, pockets itchin' for that money and fetish
In that field, bro throw a play, I'ma catch it
Make some money, that shit made me some leverage
Now they on me, tryna send me a message
Left all the fakes back with the leeches and peasants

[Verse 1]
Hit the gas, in the coupe with my main bitch
Figures change, but I swear I ain't change shit
Drop the top, I pop my shit when it's brainless
Plastic Glocky, but my bro keep a stainless
Rap nigga know when I see him, he chain-less
I watch my back 'cause these niggas be dangerous
Knife on the Glock, I pull up, tryna blade shit
I'm on my shit and we not on the same shit
Still that lil' nigga from back then, I just got packs in
And I been eatin' like Pac-Man
He tried to run, blow his back in
Bro got a MAC-10, we lay him down like a mattress
Took out the drama, brought racks in
Look at my fashion, I'm rockin' Dolce & Gabbana
They know that we never had shit, I ain't gon' cap shit
Slept on the floor with my mama
L.A., I ball like a Laker
Ain't tryna miss when I shoot, so my gun got a laser
I'd probably fuck 'fore I date her
She know I'm Flow and I came in this bitch with some paper
FN on my hip for a hater
Jumped in that water with snakes and piranhas and gators
They probably made us
He gave his all to a bitch that be fuckin' my brothers
Please, save him

[Chorus]
Bro told me fuck 'em up, been goin' up since he said it
I can't entertain her texts, but I read it
Pockets itchin' for that money and fetish
Say, pockets itchin' for that money and fetish
In that field, bro throw a play, I'ma catch it
Make some money, that shit made me some leverage
Now they on me, tryna send me a message
Left all the fakes back with the leeches and peasants

[Verse 2]
In my feelings, go and lock in the booth
Don't wanna a lot, she know I just wanna the truth
When you tryna win and you destined to lose
Just keep on tryin' 'til you get you some blues
Know these niggas couldn't trod on my shoes
I act like I'm cool, but really, I'm through
Fed up with all these niggas who been pocket-watchin'
And these niggas who watchin' my move
I ain't gon' fake, I been in my bag
And they know that
And we the youngest niggas
Leavin' niggas stretched out like a doormat
Yeah, yeah, they hate that I'm poppin' my shit
Yeah, yeah, on Granny, yeah, yeah
I keep on pourin' up fours
My bro tryna tax for the lows, we still get 'em gone
I bring my stick on the road
Just when they think I'm alone, I up it and blow
I know some shit they don't know
But if I speak on the shit, that'll mean that I told
Bro put a beam on the pole
He up this bitch and red dot landin' straight on your nose

[Chorus]
Bro told me fuck 'em up, been goin' up since he said it
I can't entertain her texts, but I read it
Pockets itchin' for that money and fetish
Say, pockets itching for that money and fetish
In that field, bro throw a play, I'ma catch it
Make some money, that shit made me some leverage
Now they on me, tryna send me a message
Left all the fakes back with the leeches and peasants