Surgery (Explicit)

作词 : Feliciano Ponce/Jorge Augusto/Kobe Crawford/Raúl Bermejo Bermejo/Luzian Tuetsch/Harissis Tsakmaklis

作曲 : Feliciano Ponce/Jorge Augusto/Kobe Crawford/Raúl Bermejo Bermejo/Luzian Tuetsch/Harissis Tsakmaklis

(Ayy bro, is that Jambo?)

Oh, what the **** you mean, you ain't heard of me?

Stepped in the game and gave it surgery

I told my mama I was sorry

You don't know half of my story

**** all this fame, I want my privacy

This for them young niggas, probably die up in that

Them words you said to me probably the only thing I can't believe

Too many niggas rattin', I bought a trap and put it overseas

The hood quarterback, I put my nigga up at wide receiver

I trap right down the street from where my auntie live

My ***** a stripper, I can't die, I'ma throw this **** and live (Ayy)

I just came home from the can, 'bout to buy another Benz

I be so stuck, I'm booted up, this **** like Timberlands

Came in the game, it was layin' on the ground

Put my hands in his chest, started pumpin' up and down

Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe

Breathe, breathe

Ayy, I brought the game back

I still would lay up with that *****, she ****ed my partner, I ain't mad

If the promoter ain't got like fifty, it's a no-show

This for my young niggas who down at them corner stores

It ain't no safety no more

'Fore Lil Top had signed a nigga, I was walkin' with thirty-eight racks

I was already pourin' up eighths of purple 'fore I talked to Lamar Jackson

I was already walkin' on the moon, high, before Michael Jackson

I'ma get me a *****, then I'ma buy her a body filled up with plastic

She want extensions, I got extensions on all my guns

You is the realest, I really think that you're the one

Cartier glasses see-through, it's like I bought 'em for no reason

I don't promote violence, but I told him to leave his phone while he creepin'

I'd hate to be the reason, he love God, but he gon' keep sinnin'

Young nigga end up dyin', it ain't his fault

You can't blame him, he just wanted cars with beats in 'em (Yeah)

Damn, I hate bein' famous, shackles on my wrist and ankles

Gave you love and then you leave, all I wanted was a thank you

This is for my gun slingers, this is for my mother****ers

Jail'll never make me better, time brought more anger