Money came along problems
♥♥♥♥ got me like hell naw
Ask me what I'm doing with my life, ain't ♥♥♥♥ to tell ya'll
They selling these, though
We don't really need those
Rather burn some foil
Smoke some powder off some clean folds
I'll be rolling dollar papers
Crush it down and breathe those
I don't think I feel those
He ain't really coming back
Put that on my soul
She ain't never get her summer back
Acting like you really want it
Boy, you'll get it laid down
If I hit your face and started spraying, dead; he laid there
Probably heard me laughing with a cold stare laid dead
Left the car around a tree with road flares, stayed there