Reality (Silver Mac)

[Intro: Nyora Spouse]
Pew, cha-ching
Blkkk,  blkkk, blkkk, blkkk

[Verse 1: Nyora Spouse]
Yung  Blkkk, Nyora Spouse, make you pee
Posted on the block, throw the Glock, pack the heat
Just smokin' on black blunts, filled with keef
Riding  through the blkkk mobile, slidin' through the streets
Why  do you copy, just ask me to teach
Your girl not on lock, that thot on my meat
Peepin',  this snitch [?]
Waking up early just to wake and bake
The only thing I'm always late for is [?]
Gamble on my life, despite the stakes
Still  stickin' and slidin in the back of the cadillac
Dem gyal don't you front, just throw that ass back
I'm serving up drugs while I'm [?] dank
Open the jar, the home it gon' stank
Dunk in the beds, just emoji [?]
Your bitch gimme creds, she swallow with head
All gold Casio, set to army time
Cartier ring, finger up, peep the shine
Always get more than .7 for the dime
Just lemme flex, you don't know how hard I grind
Just want the neck, I don't wanna fuck
Hit and I quit, I'm not tryna cuff
Say you make moves, but I think you bluff
F.P.S. nigga, we just supply plugs

[Interlude: Au Flexgod]
Ayy, ayy
It's the motherfuckin' Flexgod
Gold motherfuckin' Flexgod!
Motherfuckin' flex, motherfuckin' flex
Motherfuckin' Flexgod

[Verse 2: Au Flexgod]
Slauderhill bitch, put my town to my back
Still gettin' dome in the back of the 'lac
Niggas won't talk but they know that we flex
Still keep the [?] right next to my lap
That's no Google Chrome but a nigga stay searchin'
Monster [?] so a nigga stay lurkin'
Up in the lap and you know we stay workin'
With some bad bitches, you know that they twerkin'
Reality, bitch, it's time to face facts
You fuckin' a thot, all of Broward hit that
You fuckin' a thot, all of Broward hit that
You fuckin' a thot, all of Broward hit that
You need to quit that, you need to quit that
Don't hate the messenger, I'm just droppin' the facts
So pussy ass nigga, you need to relax (need to relax)
Before they done go, gra-tat-tat-tatt!
[?] blunts, splat-tat-tat-tat
Professional flexer, I am a bad texter
But our bitch a sexter, I made her [?]
The gold god-flexer, tell me who better
Gettin' this cheddar through all types of weather
Fuck your endeavours, my rhymes gettin' clever
Up in the club with my Mason Margielas
Just kidding, I'm not that rich
Her mind is gone, I fuck 3 zips
This shit is art, and I feel like Picasso
Wrap your bitch hair, then I fuck her full throttle
That is the motto, [?] like I'm [?]
I don't want a mention, I just want a grotto
Mama keep yelling, and telling me "[?]"
Money grab my wishes like it was [?]
Smoking on loud so I'm mining the [?]
Told you I got lyrics like it's a barcode

[Bridge: Au Flexgod]
Ahh, skrt
Told you I got lyrics like it's a barcode, skrt
Told you I got lyrics like it's a barcode
Finish him!

[Verse 3: AleXander Grand]
Drop some shit, then say the [?]
Niggas always be talkin, loud
But you don't want it nigga, shut your beak
I said we flex while we kiss cash
They see you meditate, and stay the least
No loops [?] Broly [?]
She say she comin, check your cheats (AG, AG)
Stackin' paper, roll these sheets
While designing my own Beats
F.P.S. is on the map
Now these niggas wanna be
Catch me wearing that size CC
Hoodies and straight weather [?]
Make sure opps ain't catching me
Can't walk the streets, with all these heat
Rolling weed, and I light it for days
I'm chillin' recording, I drop my Bay J
Niggas just always got something to say
Please get the fuck out my muhfuckin face!
They can't relate, the blunts that I face
Will have me so high, cause I'm stuck in space
Get out of my spot, cause I am first place
I am just winning, cause life is a race

[Hook: AleXander Grand]
Niggas get shot, and your brains gettin' dropped
It was a MAC, cause I don't own a Glock
Niggas get shot, and your brains gettin' dropped
It was a MAC, cause I don't own a Glock
Silver MAC up on my back, recording all these fuckin' tracks
Silver MAC up on my lap, I'm ready for a damn attack

[Outro: AleXander Grand]
Ah, F.P.S
Finish him!
Finish him!