It won't be because I ain't tryin' You see I've got myself an angel Well, if I never get to heaven Eleven once or twice ain't bad If I never get to heaven And that's all I need to be my guide If I never hit seven I said, if I never hit seven And that's

This ain't what you want, this ain't what you want (What you want) I gotta go get it, I gotta go get it Miss me with that bullshit (Bullshit) You ain't really wild, you a tourist (A tourist) I be blackin' out with the purist (The purist) I made a hundred

Oh oh oh oh oh ooh, b-ball for me, yeah Oh oh oh oh oh ooh, ball for me Baby could you? I got too much on my mind right now I ain't got the time to get you Saint Laurent down Could you? I got too much on my mind right now Time to hit Rodeo, give my baby

I've been on my shit, 'cause I'm hot now I ain't used to get it but I got it now You can't tell me shit, tell me nothin' Anything I want, I pull up in Two joints, that's double homicide Cop one for you and your friends Rolling papers two

Into the city where it all began You gotta move, you gotta move Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma Time you gotta move When you, you gonna move to the city? Aw, child, ain't it a pity? Sometimes it gets too shitty Come on and hit me You pack your bags

Know a nigga gotta talk my shit I ain't think twice, I paid that price and we did this, nigga Look, reached every goal I actually set I had to sit back down and rearrange that list, nigga Look, and now I'm out here gettin' rich You know a nigga gotta

Try me in the afternoon, bet you just can't get enough Try me in the evening, satisfaction guaranteed Ain't we all just looking for some loving tonight? Got a crazy feeling that I've hit you just right So try me in the morning when the sun comes rising

If you're feelin' what I'm feelin' let's mix it up, You got my number baby hit me up, If you need a little late night pick me up, We ain't gotta make up just kiss me, We could straight up blame it on the whiskey, You ain't gotta wake up and miss me, no,

I, don't know what you take me for I, really don't play that shit I, ain't got to get you hit I get out myself and spray that shit Man I'm tired of tellin' niggas over and over I got a itchy-itchy trigger finger, nigga it's killin' me Not to spray this

The man with the plan, I ain't playing, I'm 'bout business Lil Kodak had to get it off the Land, talking Disney You told on your mans, went to sing like you Whitney Floating on a Xan, swear to God it got me dizzy Project baby, I remember eating