Typa Timin Lyrics

He on that same type of timing asl him bout' that hospital

Oh that's your mans? Posting "GBG" you might just die with him

Talking crazy, hit his brother now his mama cry with him

Like "he was oh so young, oh my god why him?"

I'm in the camp it's for a reason bitch i'm screaming "Really Rich"

Them boys gone need a calculator, they keep adding up the fits

I'm on the tele swiping shit and they on twitter posting GIFs

On his birthday the last time he ever post a fit

I don't need no new friends, all you niggas broke as shit

Don't need no badges or progression when i shoot it never miss

He talking shit, a walking lick

I'm wearing tracks and hawking shit

I had to tell my broadie calm down, he tweaking off a brick

Like how you niggas cliqueing up and all y'all niggas soft as shit

Like how the fuck you run him down and all my niggas walking shit

Them boys don't want no beef for-real it's up and ain't no stopping it

We keep on feeding him the bullets he hate his esophagus

I'll sell yo ass the methods it's the one who copping it

Said he the letter before H but i'm the one that's locking shit

My nigga Drac will spill some shit and have the paramedics mopping it

I know you heard about me and my niggas we've been dropping shit

He on that same type of timing asl him bout' that hospital

Oh that's your mans? Posting "GBG" you might just die with him

Talking crazy, hit his brother now his mama cry with him

Like "he was oh so young, oh my god why him?"