Manifesto Lyrics

What are we callin the fake friends that'll leave u for dead

What are we callin the gold diggin bitches snitchin to feds

Ill never ever trust a bitch that would leave if I lost any cred

I never had to treat a friend dead but now we embed

Easy to take, grave vines, like a bullet of lead

Fake, Fake ,Fake, Fake

"My neck insane", shawty is out of her mafuckin brain, ay

Okay, Okay, Okay, Okay, Okay

Trace hoes, case closed, im rich, bezos

Say so, plain hoe, fame chose

Im back, so ima go count on those pesos

Deep throat, knees sore, keep close, we bros, teeth gold, speed boat, bleed broke

Need mo, so i can go black on a bank note

Teatro, C Note, Migo, Beat 4, flee coat, sea cloth, we know

Keep note, the time and the money I make hoe

Makin music is a fuckin pashion

Thrift shop with the ghetto fashion

Trigger finger and she gonna flash it

New whip, and she gonna crash it

Treat a bitch whataver neccessary, cold february

Born to october, pleedin the fifth

Stackin up assets, playin the rich

Finna ball out, like scottie and pip

Come to the show, ull die to the trips

Fuck on that, Morty and Rick

Cookin up my muthafuckin manifesto

Needa espresso

Down at the diner we cookin DNA hoe

Who shot the migo

Life on the line who u lettin roll the fuckin dice

Wonder if it gotta price

Ziplock bag, don't look twice

Im countin up dollas, that bitch make me hotter, she bouta come smoke it for real

She bounce on it 365 but I aint spend a dime so she in for the feels

The Copy and Paste, the faker the face, she playin me like its a game

Im callin her name, I play her same, so really I couldn't complain

They fuckin up assets, the fuckin the trends, i spit in they face and they makin amends

I try pretend, I fuck w the trends, im gettin the money, ill count it again

Ill write it again, while ridin the benz, you talkin bout killin, u makin me cringe

I put up wich u, u mistake it for friends, they dickridin u so i gotta pretend

They talkin bout Money Lisa

Im Leonardo, ina minute the scotts'll be callin for a feature

She call me the devil I didnt confess so she callin for a preacher

She sick of the shit that im pullin I'm catchin her fallin wit a fever

I said I'll never leave her, I gotta confess

Puttin that bitch in the past tense

Scared I'll be trippin on…(yuh)

Scared ill trippin on mad 10's

I dont react, u can ask them

Black beatle, but I'm actin

New beat that I'm cashin

New whip that I'm crashin

Scared Ill be talkin about em and they freeze

Shit talkin, got ma heart on ma sleeve

Figuring out what the music should mean

Theres no way to know if somebody agree

Killed they career so they turned into theives

Prayin because they got children to feed

So send em to jail so they'll neva be seen

It only make sense when u holdin the key