itstooloud

Stick out my thumbs and indexes and flick em like Kobe isos
Niggas wasn't setting me screens, turned me to maestro
50-pointers back-to-back nights, neck is a light show
To most it's not a walk in the park, to me it's a light stroll
Throw me the whole sack or half upfront and your FICO
Niggas start to move funny when talk of money inserted
2 Summers back my shit started to pop, don't know what spurred it
Just got a message from mission control, crisis averted
I'm YSL-shirted, wait for my resi like guilty verdict
Do prayer hands like Snoop in the courtroom when waiter serve it
Throw fpg on the restaurant copy, that boy deserve it
But honestly it don't matter the service, that's how I move now
It's too loud, it's too many niggas chiefing burritos
The fumes cut through my flows like torpedo
The plug setting it off, but he just packed the Pachulia
Bout to leave though
From 12 to 6 he gone drop off the zones like Barry Zito
The CROOK$ sent me a p

The CROOK$ sent me a primo drop of molasses
And trusted in me to put it in casket
The AMG got an adamantium chassis and bulletproof glasses
At least I suspect it
I'm in a Rick Owens trench like '60s detective
My game was defective, several holes in the code
Thumb through the folds in my brain to tailor these flows
Not a sailor but this Villy ensemble convincing
This waterproof Richard Mille on
Shamalayan diamonds sit in suspension
Get too much attention
99% hate in a parallel dimension where shit is inverse
Chasing the chicken tighten my tendons
I frequently stretch my syllables tryna tend to the tension
And fit em in verse
ProTools froze on the spot as soon as the venom disperse
Restart the session, restart the session, restart the session
My takes gon be better this time around, ain't no stressing
Restart the session, my takes gon be better, it ain't no question

I get altitude sickness when tryna track my progression
I'm in the back of a Bentley blacker than voter suppression
The 5 percent on the windows encourage viewer discretion
A walking lick in the fishbowl I certainly learned my lesson
I'm head-to-toe Heron Preston
Used to be jobless and broke and somehow it turned to a blessing
Not real religious but I keep the leather crosses baked in the denim focaccia
Project coming soon niggas, I got ya
I need a quick lil adjustment, this money killing my posture
Green tip in my homie stick like a bottle of Sriracha



Credits
Writer(s): Benjamin Glover
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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