Paper Thoughts ft. Molli Boogotti Lyrics

I be on other shit

For all of this money

These niggas can't fuck with this

You know it get really litt

I am that nigga

They act so oblivious

We be on other shit

Don't fuck with no mixy shit

Don't fuck with no mixy bitch

The game in my pocket and I had to run with it

Lemme show how I really get

When I touch all of this money, I get the feeling that I fell in love with it

Love for the money will have you go savage, my nigga I need me another ten

Losing a friend, will have you go crazy, the pain make you say you gon spin again

In Brooklyn they hopped out of sprinter vans

Goofy ass niggas ain't feeling them

Ain't have it before

All this drip that I got on, I got even more

Check for the score

Ball so hard fr, I tear up the court

Tell em I'm going insane, look at the glow up lil nigga, we not the same

Love all my bruddas the same, don't violate, I done got good with the aim

Go getters, we get it forreal

Went thru the worst, I done had juice for a meal

They hatin, they haters fr

Bitches talk shit but they gon fuck with me still

These bars I got em that's real, Ain't fucking with me, No I do not need a pill,

Niggas keep telling me chill

Cause I'm going crazy, Only the money I'm chasing

They know I'm patiently waiting, want all the money you can keep being famous

I see it, I want it, I take it, ain't switching for nothing I'm the same when I make it

I be on other shit

For all of this money

These niggas can't fuck with this

You know it get really litt

I am that nigga

They act so oblivious

We be on other shit

Don't fuck with no mixy shit

Don't fuck with no mixy bitch

Dont fck wit no mixey bitch

They are irrelevant

Chasin this check like i'm waiting fa a settlement

On a another level I ain't playin bout that

Think i got me swag jacked

Good thing I'm the truth only fuckin wit the real

So I move wit the tool that's Chicago drill

Yung Bull irregardless of who who step to me

On Demon time no matter where I be

No time fa the bullshit beat them feet

Ctrl alt delete the fake internet beef

Ma niccas ain't poppin no pills

Too busy running up a sack yea farrell

I am the pill standin on that

Couple groupie baes that'll merch that's fact

Gettin to the paper how i get ma lick back

Pretty brown brown

Soft round round

Violate they gone find u in the lost an found

Gotta kno that's how I'm bumin all year around

Me n ma ridahs is solid forreal

You get wat u give give a fuck how u feel

Ain't no snacks over here this a full meal

An shit green but the paper trail

Cook County baby til they bury me

Only the biggest steppas gone feel me

Cuz they love that u real til they ask how u feel n u tell em