Salty Lyrics

On a whole other level how could he not make it

If you really did want it you'd see all these opportunities that you're not taking

Respect is lacking the second that you ain't got bread

But they gon' stay close enough to see what you got bakin'

I'm good with not fakin'

I'm good with niggas pretendin' to be okay

On the low, you know they can't stop hatin'

Increase my stock, I ain't stoppin' a nigga stock hits

I stop to listen to niggas and niggas not shit

A conscious rapper but lately I find myself entertaining the notion of steady hoing and

being toxic

Maybe it's the internet

Maybe it's a side of life, I just ain't gotten into yet

Maybe this corona thing is messin' with my head

I'm tryna make it to the city, cause I haven't seen my niggas yet

Chain smokin' cigarettes

Still makin' music for the fun of it

They askin' for my price and I ain't even got a figure yet

Niggas try to throw shade and flex, but I'm still here

The same one they hate, but they still fear

She got a man, but I know that she still care

It ain't misogynistic, that's feelings we still share

But I can't be reminiscin'

My heart in hibernation and my head is on the mission

Way ahead of competition

We played on television

Eleven-year-old me wouldn't believe that shit if he had seen it in a premonition

The chance of me blowin', what is the probability

The chance of you knowin' there ain't no possibility

I hate when niggas move like they sleepin' on my ability

Funny how niggas sleepin' be boostin' my productivity

Me and my momma was talkin' bout the obscenities

I basically explained keepin' it real

And how the choice of words really the reason that people feelin' me

She said, baby watch it cause all the cursin' is killin' me

Shed my light to the dark, then I share my flow with the parched

And I charge that shit to the game, niggas doublin' as utilities

I hate when niggas be sayin' I sound is similar

Tryin' to get a verse when you need to get better similes

I'm peeling' back all the truths, I ain't got no ceilings

My come up is prime cinema

They want front seats cause they heard how I rhyme sinister

Lyrical nines spitting the truth

In hindsight, man, it's probably some fine ministry