Songtexte Talkin 2 - PMG Wavey

I'm cutting off niggas, don't fuck with the fake now
You not getting money?, Then you cannot stay round
I hope on the mic, and it feel like a play ground
You niggas ain't rapping, you really just make sounds

That boy think he talking to a goofy
He don't know it's me
See him, then we punking
Cashing in, I told him go to sleep
He was asking bitches where that hug at but notice me
Think he sipping wok, but that shit cut, no you ain't poured a three

All about business no tats on my face
Got to the bag, I might cop me a wraith
Big body Benz I be needing my space
Seen a bad bitch and went right to my place
I don't want no sex I be fucking her face
Been told that bitch that we don't go on dates
You already here that mean it is too late
Ctrl Alt Delete when I'm done you escape

Like damn, she wanna sex me
Got a bad white bitch named Lexi!
Nah, Alexis!
From Texas!
Finna beat that thing up like the Nexus!
No that boy ain't hard, can't press up
No I am what I am, can't test us
We be getting to the green, can't dress us
Stuck in the lower card you Festus

If you talking on my name I'll get it back and have you hurting
Have your shawty spin this block, and touch this glock no black suburban
Make sure you know we ain't the same, might take yo' chain
I'm living perfect
All of that over some clout, might put you out
Get back to working

I know you niggas, act hoes
Thats day and night, all twenty-four
Cuz when times, start getting tuff you be the first ones out the door
G63 fresh off the lot, I need a truck, ain't riding low
But either way fuck what you say, cuz bitch I'm up
You on the floor!
Get that check, I gotta go!
Two twin coupes, they riding low
Stuffing blue cheese in my Ksubi's
If you bitching, gotta go
I'm cutting off niggas, don't fuck with the fake now
You not getting money?, Then you cannot stay round
I hope on the mic, and it feel like a play ground
You niggas ain't rapping, you really just make sounds

You really ain't barking, you niggas just talking
I hop on the mic and I still do the walking
I'm popping that smoke, this ain't Christopher Walking
He must mean't at bitches when he said he barking
I'm sorry, excuse me, I'm talking my shit
I'm rolling my wood cuz I love to get lit
I'm normally singing but it's fun to spit
This talk number two, cuz you niggas love it
Why he coming at me, cuz his bitch on my dick?
Better talk to your shordy, she came to my shit
She rubbing my jeans, tryna feel for my blick
That lil boy he ain't steppin, just tryna pop shit
Yo' lil thotty a runner but you mad at me?
I'm ballin like Jordan, ain't turn 23
Fit costing more money then you ever seen
I see why you hating, I'm really too clean