It Got To The Point Lyrics

(Bryce Did It Again Aye)

I took 20 thousand on a flight got stopped by TSA

They tryna check me think i'm selling fetti all they seen was pape

I been way too humble tryna bubble put it in they face

We ain't finna cuddle bitch that trouble i just want your brain

I promise i won't fumble we don't huddle i just run the plays

This ain't royal rumble we ain't finna tussle ima up a K

It got to the point she let me fuck and i don't gotta speak

It got to the point i pull her hair like i don't fuck with weave

It got to the point i'm putting blues in the Purple jeans

It got to the point i don't fuck with niggas they don't fuck with me

I can drop a video and i'll be hottest in the city

I can't trust a silly hoe i'm getting top holding my semi

ARP look like Mickey on Disney get busy

Look at how they did me i was tryna make em Proud like Penny

When i rap all my shit slap, Chris Rock at the Emmys

Just had a threesome with a brat and my strap four nicki

I don't think these niggas hear me

I don't fear no man i'm rocking Fear of God i put it on my mom that only God i'm fearing

I'm nonchalant as fuck i'm just tryna make a million

Turn me up you know a million ain't enough i need a trillion

Bad bitch tummy tucked she let me fuck when she get Brazilian

Niggas acting tough i'm like why he bluff I swear i know the real him

There ain't no one that i trust my own family tryna kill me

Ride around with real clips but real shit we don't do no filming

City hot niggas spinning with them fans like a ceiling (Uh)

I don't get no invite to the stu cause i be shit talkin

Keep a K fuck around an get popped and now you hip hopping

How the fuck the bottom of my shoes red but i ain't robin?

Why did i abuse the meds and now i feel em when i'm joggin'

I been staying healthy i been sipping Wock and eating fruit

Keep a 30 on my waste for my jeans and for my tool

It ain't shit to empty clips so don't play me like no fool

I been tryna play it coo but fuck that i'm back to acting rude

I just poured a two in a Jones i feel like Julio

My momma mad cause i didn't hoop i chose the studio

Now every time i drive i keep a nine like Ricky Rubio

I got bitches on my line but i decline i hate groupie hoes

It got to the point she let me fuck and i don't gotta speak

It got to the point i pull her hair like i don't fuck with weave

It got to the point i'm putting blues in the Purple jeans

It got to the point i don't fuck with niggas they can't fuck with me