Sofa lyrics

[Verse 1: Tom The Mail Man]
Heartless
b*tch yeah, that sh*t pierced like cartilage
Knife through that place where my mo'f*cking heart is
She bad as f*ck so the crime might be pardoned
She like to start sh*t and I push to start it
Brand new whip from TDC it's plastered on the back of it
I pack that sh*t like swisher sweets, I'm rapping on some platinum sh*t
Ayy, at me b*tch, when you're talking using your f*cking chest
So I can hyperbeam that sh*t and put my demons all to rest
I flex like like I'm on some ignorant sh*t
But if you push my limits, b*tch, I might get ignorant quick
Like putting n*ggas around b*tches, who like egos is big
You got my feelings all hit
And b*tch I feel like a kid, in grown man's shoes
f*cking dying, n*gga where the Senzus? I'm mental
n*ggas think I'm cool cause I can ride, uh
'Cause I can ride this, um
This f*cking instrumental

[Verse 2: Mrtl gawd]
Uh, uh, yeah
Quesos in my pocket, I exceed the quotas
Your b*tch my b*tch, his chick don't smoke
But you know marijuana's
On the couch, I'm tee'd out, but n*gga, barely mobile
Pop the trunk, yeah, 'bout that skunk, yeah I lick top of yogurt
I'm fully loaded like I'm Herbie, same suit
Martin Luther, f*ck that b*tchin'
4-5 on the waist, 45 i'm back to back
Left 'em shook without a hook
'Cause me and mine go back to back
You know Tom deliver rhymes, and he just drop me off a pack
I'm so solo, no Derulo, all these n*ggas hella pseudo
Get your weight up, he ain't eating how I feast, like I'm a sumo
Grease, rest in peace to Peep
Peeping how I speak, like b*tch I talk it didn't exist
Pistol came in with a grip
Main objective is to rid all these n*ggas
I got the X and A-B combo
Swear, it's it for you n*ggas
Hella rusty, but I'm serving, need a tip from you n*ggas
Boy, I flatten out the track, extended clip on my pillow
[Verse 3: Mrtl Gawd & Tom The Mail Man]
Basic kick, always knocking, line 'em up with a beam
I swear to God, I have 'em stomach talking sh*t
How I'm always talking sh*t
Guacamole's in my molds, like "Why he always talking chips?"
And I'm hardened after three the way my mo'f*ckin' rock get hit
Spot him quick and take him out
I ain't got no patience now
You b*tches acting shady so I shine in my Mercedes, ow
Though it hurts, kick the verse instead of cursing b*tches out
Your mama said I'm bout it, pops, so all them n*ggas missing out

[Outro: Tom The Mail Man & Mrtl Gawd]
Clout sucking b*tches
Dirty toe having b*tches
Flapjack booty having ass b*tches (Ayy, uh)
I'm salty as f*ck (Salty as f*ck)
You got mail