[prod. brother moon]
p**y n***a, quit your sobbing
I was raised to handle problems we ain't never talk 'em out
Used to dribble with a n***a, now I heard he up and k**ing
And he ain't never getting out, but I don't really give no f**
Poppa popping on my momma cause she'd often run her mouth
I'm just trying to get that paper and get the f** up out my house
I'm busy pocketing bucks, these n***as talking too much
You try to rob me I'm dumping and leaving all of y'all slumped for real
sh**, cause greedy n***as got my uncle k**ed
Quiet fools is counted wise so I keep the tongue concealed
They wanted something iller, sh** I gave 'em something realer
I spit that raw sh**, f** the filler
I'm kind of sick of stupid n***as steady asking how I do it
sh** I knew that I would get it from the start
And my momma steady asking where my motherf**ing head at
I don't answer cause it'd probably break her heart