Lyrics
Lately too much on my mental
I think I’m going insane
Told her the whip ain’t a rental
Now she just giving me brain
You sold your soul to the devil
Aww man, what a shame
I sold my soul for the passion
I’m flawless with the aim
Lately too much on my mental
I think I’m going insane
Told her the whip ain’t a rental
Now she just giving me brain
Stay on the track like a train
I’m going hard in the paint
Smoking to numb all the pain
I cannot feel anything
Body so many beats
They want me in penitentiary
Fuck the fame, I want a legacy
I’m losing friends, gaining enemies
Making these memories
Make sure they bulletproof
Hoping they all be offending you
Even if it is a mission
You know I’m going the distance
Animalistic
We used to kill for the rich, now we gon’ kill for the riches
So now if I fuck on a bitch, I do not ask for the digits
Middle finger to the critics
Everybody moving wassy, everybody so suspicious
Everybody want a cut, who the fuck is doing business
I don’t even wanna hear it
You know it’s all in delivery, you know it’s all how you preach it
You know I do it with meaning
Swear the feeling so appealing
Went from a fan on the ceiling
To so many fans that I’m freezing
So it’s needless to say that I need them to save the building when I’m fire breathing
Make a toast to the ones who dreaming
Industry don’t wanna see me breathing
Hennessy’s gonna feed me reason
I can kill the demons, I can see the freedom
Might endorse alarm clocks for those who sleeping
Man, of course the block’s hot, the ghost been reaping
At the shows for hoes that pose so misleading
Got a golden nose I know no receding
Open season
Lately too much on my mental
I think I’m going insane
Told her the whip ain’t a rental
Now she just giving me brain
You sold your soul to the devil
Aww man, what a shame
I sold my soul for the passion
I’m flawless with the aim
Lately too much on my mental
I think I’m going insane
Told her the whip ain’t a rental
Now she just giving me brain
Stay on the track like a train
I’m going hard in the paint
Smoking to numb all the pain
I cannot feel anything
Vanta, vanta, syrup in the Fanta
Just another item of Americana
Tough to not flex placed in front of cameras when most my heros come from G. Atlanta
Head over baby, lets engage in tantra
Head only baby, take the whole banana
Head over shoulders, you more ‘Ho’ than Santa
Then I had to ghost you, call me Danny Phantom
Random panties in my closet next to skeletons
Spirits in my presence talking shit again
Eyes redder than the shirt on Gilligan
It’s the kid, I’m back, in the Ville again
Ahh
I wake up and take charge
Oh I
I need you to ease up
‘Cause face it
These J’s on, I don’t lace it
It’s a G30, in a spaceship
I zoom by so gracious
Yeah, that’s the life that we crave bitch
It’s outrageous
Get the bag in rotation
Hit the stage and go ape shit
I need a standing ovation
Cuz they cant stand what they don’t understand, I got the upper hand and no patience
I’m dripping down to my laces
Yeah, God my heart won’t stop racing
I’m popping off in all angles, bitch
Then pop the top in Los Angeles
Then gun me down in my hometown and make sure the service is candlelit
TUNECORE INC