RELOAD ft. Kermode Zay, Busmn, Rob Buck, Jericho & Jae Lyrics

Yo these trumpets got me feeling like I'm at the pearly gates

And that 0-60 make me think I'm in a fucking race

And if he try to step to Zay, I gotta put him in his place

Red dot 'em like a Hindu and don't leave a fucking trace, I set the pace

Got ahead and now I'm running on my own

And if you don't show love in person, please don't hit my fucking phone

And now I'm sliding on the beat because I'm in my fucking zone

Been grinding all my life and now I'm reaping what I've sewn, I set the tone

I set the bar and now I'm leaping even higher

Told Rob just pick a beat dawg, and throw me in the fire

And if I told you that I love you, my mom never raised a liar

So if yo feelings not reciprocated, no reason to inquire

I'm getting tired of this bullshit that they speaking on my name

Got two albums under my belt, talking like I run the game

Fucking your great auntie's daughter's sis 'cause shawty was a dame

Got some money in my pocket, things will never be the same

Late nights whipping in the Tesla, tryna save the gas for my lungs

Sipping on the brews when I'm hanging with the crew

I don't really fuck with the Mountain Dew

Blew a .8 at the traffic stop, told the cop I don't really know what that's about

I don't really drink, I don't really smoke

Just got tatted with some ink, just bought my wife some ink

Just fixed my broken sink, call me Fix-It Felix the way I be fixing this shit

Call me Mr. Olympia, the way I be flexing this shit

Call me Einstein, the way this shit be perplexing

Let this be a lesson, don't fuck with me or I'll bring the full press in

I'm an artist, I smoke the loudest

Got your bitch in the Stu' sucking dick, she a prowess

Now she mounting, yeah she wet like a fountain

Made me cum twice, I need a rest but now she pouting

So now I'm going ham again, titties so extravagant

Booty keep clapping back like I'm a fucking magnet

Brain so insane, yo she even a graduate?

Way she bowing down feel like I received the sacrament

Yeah her hair so frizzy when I hit it from the back, yeah I get so dizzy

Now she gleaming up my glizzy, but wait hold up I gotta take a pissy

Now she let me hit it from the back again, no kizzy

Yeah her name was Lizzy, smoking hot like a chimney

Curves so spicy like some cinnamon

Back shots imminent, light her ass up like a filament

Smoking on grocery greens, ain't no cigarettes

My three like the heat 'cause there's no AC in the whip (aye)

I told my brother take my life if I go out about some bitch (aye)

He ain't know where she was at until he check her at the crib (aye)

He ain't know that was my chopper 'til he check under the grip

And my shit gotta click

My shit gotta hit, go like (boom boom boom boom boom)

I gotta reload that whole clip

And I guess he still got hit

I ain't lie about this shit

You can walk me through the x-ray, I got metal in my hip

I got metal in my pocket, I got money on my head (aye)

Too much stepping in the Forces they already turning red (aye)

If he lie about that shit, he already knew he dead (aye)

If he talking to the opps, I might leave his ass on read (aye)

And my shooter like a dog, I might give his ass a bone

And he might just pop a perky just to get up in his zone

If I fuck with her, believe me I'll be fucking all night long

If she tell me that she love me, then this not a love song

And it's not a love song, it's a getting money song

It's a fucking bitches everyday and selling drugs song (aye)

It's a left her ass on read, if she ain't knew that was wrong

It's a left her yesterday, if I ain't fucking with her tone (aye)

I ain't sniffing no ketamine

Bitch tryna change me, she make a better me

I know I'm vouching for all of these 'phetamines

Got all this cheese, my wallet look cheddary

VV my ice, my diamonds December

Eliantte on the tennis remember

I know they prayed on my downfall

Look at the way that they hate on my ass know they fed up

I had to go get up

I keep a strap, the switch on Berettas

Wallet Bottega Veneta

Pull up in bimmer's and shit with my runners and steppers

I don't deliver the packs, know they still get delivered

I'm blessed because my runners get figures, I only hire go getters

I'm copping the S-class, copping the G-class, copping more letters

They asking, they beg for a feature

I'm sitting court side not in the bleachers

God would've made me 6'3" but he knew that I had to fit up in this 'Rari two seater

Wait because I'm stunting in this

My shirt is designer, no I am not fucking in this

Money all hunnids and shit

I don't want no paper unless it got blue on the strips