Yeaa-Starlito/Kevin Gates

Don't matter just don't bite it, and don't spill my cup And I don't want the bottle unless they sell mine up She wanna f**k in my car, so we fucked in the trunk Mr. Officer you handcuffin' or what? For hundred dollar two liter I pour that s**t up I owe this nigga, but I don't give a fuck Just made sixty off the road damn right, I scrape this s**t up Goin' back and forth that [?] I'm in grade with the plug Take what they want, they think I play for the son I come from straight runnin' guns, my heart don't play one on one I sip that drink till I'm numb, and I'm impatiently dumb Like once our dude calls you an Uber you can stay 'till they come Your ho just smoke up your grass shit, your last shit Just been spent sixty racks on Texas, just last year Got me back sellin' bag shit, no half shit Pourin' hot take off the glass yeah, don't know how I ain't crashed yet When crunch time all the youngins go to stickin' s**t up Outside with that iron while they clinkin' the club Booty plump, she got trunk, shawty shakin' her rump I've been gone a couple months tryin' to see what is what [?] No matter what I swear I love her to death When I was fucked up all the girls, she was the only one there Quarter chicken got delivered got it thrown on the scale When the money go flippin' all the herb go to hell Ya tell her oh well, get w**d from somebody else Designer stitching on my denim you could tell by the belt Vacuum suction on the [?], lips murdered the blunt By the time you go to hit it ain't the s**t for your lungs