No Fatigue - Montana of 300 lyrics

[Chorus: Montana of 300] x2 She tried to run game (oh nah) told that b**h it's over She found her a lame (spendin' loot) he be trickin' on her But don't f** the same (way I do) sh** feel different don't it Left me in the rain (yeah) came back drippin' on her [Verse 1: Montana of 300] Check out my drip step up out the whip Gucci on my kicks I'm in my bag Like I'm eating chips she used to be my dip Cold as ice but that b**h ain't that slick And I ain't no [!] I had to roll She went behind my back like I set a pick Now she sick Bayless just like Skip And she need a fix while he tricks She sends naked pics she must miss this dick I ignore her now she hurt she pissed 'Cause it wasn't worth the risk You had your shot blew it like a crip now miss me like a brick Now you spyin' all on my Instagram I'm drippin' sauce you see me shinin' You miss the way I taste you miss the way I used to slide in Kissin' lickin' s** all on her titties while you ride it Lay you on your stomach and go crazy from behind it Feelin' on your booty like R. Kelly bumpin' grindin' But we can't rewind it I'm the truth like confessions I came clean Have the drip show that b**h what the rain bring Had to cut that b**h off tryna gangrene You get dick but b**h it ain't the same thing [Chorus] x2 [Verse 2: No Fatigue] Watch out I'm the sh**, might have an effect on yo b**h Aye, just like a pick, thought I was a lick Said that she had my back realized that b**h wasn't sh** No [!], she thought that I was gone slip And it's not a diss bet that she miss What I used to do for baby like I'm the one that got [!] f** her brains out f** her brains out Didn't make no sense, on social media Blowing up all of my pics I could tell she miss the dick [!] [!] Thinkin' I'm tweakin' got me feelin' like Wayne b**h got me misunderstood Cut that b**h off, I know you see it was simple Now it's f** her like a nympho, we used to f** No Chris Brown, switch up the tempo Let her ride me like a rental, [!] Break her back like a pencil, beat that p**y instrumental Thinkin' she had me, thought she had the game All that b**h got was a demo, found her a lame Trickin' if he got it, [!] need to stop it I got different options, had her on cuffs call me Thompson Now that sh** dead, unresponsive She keep on callin', I keep on pressin' ignore I f** around I might block her, don't do no pop-ups I'm not your daddy or poppa sh** got too hot so I dropped her, aye