Текст песни 3 SMRS STR8 - 42 Dugg , Rylo Rodriguez , LUCKI

(Tell me about your feelings, tell-) ay, ay, ay, ay, ay
I don't need nobody, I'd rather make- (tell me about your feelings, tell-)
You know that part already
I just gotta keep tellin' niggas
'Cause we all do drugs, we be forgettin' shit
Ay, ay (Othello on the beat)

I don't need nobody, I'd rather make nothin' outta nothin'
I been rich for my third straight summer
Make a Wraith burn rubber
Goin' speeds we ain't even know it coulda
I write raps, write a nigga name on a bullet
Weak nigga let a bitch make him go against his brothers
Spent 3300 on a plain black hoodie
I'm sick of this, uh, huh, ay
It's the shit that come with the shit

Got in trouble for that ho, I had fun with that bitch
I be treatin' you like a family, but it's blood in this shit
Have you slimed? Have you snaked out your cousin and shit?
Choose blood over water, throw codeine in the mix

Hold on, I don't play no games, need to cut it, stop it
If I was, she know to twist it, pull it, bop it
In three days, I done poured like nine treys, fuck Tekashi
If I deactivate my 'Gram, this shit'll piss off niggas' stylists
They locked twin over servin' an informant, I got the crew ready
These niggas catchin' DBs like Kool-Aid
"How much for the pint?" You keep on tellin' me what you paid
"I'm just tryna beat around the bush," this ain't charade

I ain't never got a ho a purse and I ain't hit
Sosa, he a dropout plug, dealin' high grade
Oversized cap, the cropped tee look like it ain't fit
Free the bros, I'ma die real, how I ain't shit?
She want me to buy her a AP, but not on my watch
She a Van Cleef junkie, buy her more, she'll probably OD
A bitch come play with me twice, we was in OT

Love ain't really love if you ain't willin' to die
Put my dreams to the side, and I'm livin' 'em now
Finally squashed shit with the Fives, killin' 'em now
Ask a nigga from the bottom, do he remember the top?
My mama told me not to trust a bitch
Got us the one who they ain't fuckin' with
Feel bad, gettin' too much with the sucker shit

Ride, ride, windows down, pistol out, pint on me
Just blew like 50 thou', that was light, homie
Come sneak the pistol now, I got a knife on me
You stab me in my back, do it
Bankroll on me, all bluish
Been tryna keep it kosher like I'm Jewish
I don't fuck with niggas or they music
Quit tellin' bitches that we got into it
And you ain't dead, stupid

(Tell me about your feelings, tell-)
(Tell me about your feelings, tell-)