Sweetwater Remix (Bonus Track) Lyrics

Fuck you mean us against the world

It's me against I nigga

Aye it's Mr. steal yo majesty

It's Mr. rock that clothing boy

Pop out in New York I'm still that Minnesota frozen boy

Hit em with that 3 4 your favorite rapper folding boy

Sippin' on a peach torch, faded like a Polaroid

I can't do no mixing, leave it for the white kids

Walk up in the stu' and beat it up just like I'm Tyson

She texting me at 3 AM like when can I come slide king

I'm like shi right now you read my mind just like a psychic

Poppa use to sell that fifty cent out the Wallabee

Skipped step nine cause I can't do no damn apology

I just went to France and copped a vintage bootleg Prada piece

I can't do no college they ain't got no brickonometry

Hanging with my goonies

Hanging with some big guys

Choppa fat as fuck I gave that shit a number 6 with fries

I can't fit yo L's no more I think I need a bigger size

I put pain up on my tracks, you probably sit at home and cry

I feel like I'm Arnold

Moving all this weight around

Cuzzo dropped me at the crib and now the weight is safe and sound

Fall done did me dirty, I don' eat and lost a couple pounds

Now I'm skinny legend

Shout out to my bredren

Rap game in pieces got me tiptoe steppin'

Kick you out my company and give no severance

Brother caught a case for the big body weapon

So fuck up out my face I don't need your presents

Aye, say fuck up out my face I don't need your presents

Aye, fuck up out my face I don't need your uh

And it's I against I