No Compadre lyrics

[Intro]
Boy, I'm tryna tell you

[Verse]
f*ck it, go in off the muscle
n*ggas never love you, don't respect your hustle
Every time they see you, dap you up in public
Second that you turn your back, they all like, "f*ck you"
What the f*ck wrong with these n*ggas?
I wouldn't even get on a song with these n*ggas
You might as well go put a thong on these n*ggas
I smell the perfume or cologne on these n*ggas
Ah, time to turn up in the city
I pull up broad day with that choppa, let's get it
These n*ggas act like they can't get they issue
Bring Swerve out the cut and I send him to get you
Pull up like, "Who wanna see me?"
Try me if you don't believe me
I got 'em like, "Who Baby Jesus?
The one that cashed out on that new yellow Beamer?"
No play-play, no play-play, I'm bustin'
I'm 'bout whatever, won't back down from nothin'
Perfected my craft, exercising my muscle
Two guns in the club, kill the first n*gga touch me
That's why I be chilling and minding my business
I'm half-way retarded, my mind is the sickest
Welcome to Charlotte, and this how we livin'
From East to the West, better be 'bout your business
In North to the South, f*ck around, get your issue
Re-up in Charlotte then come with your pistol
Don't leave it in the car, I bring it in here with me
Please don't get me started 'cause I don't like quittin'
On I-85 blowing smoke out the window
Vroom, I'm Ricky Bobby, I send hits like Boosie
The first n*gga try me, I pay for the bodies
Just call me John Gotti, yeah
It ain't sh*t to send a hit
Send a DM on the Gram, hit your b*tch
Got a MAC-11, 32 in the clip
Keep a .45 with 15 shots off the hip
Pocket monster, we strapped up in the V.I.P
f*ck the security, we in the club with them pistols
Catch him slipping, go knock the mug off a n*gga
Ask what happened, "Sorry, I do not remember," damn
Know how we do in the fold (Charlotte)
No pressure, I know what do wit' your ho
Bet I make her feel special, I know what to tell her
I sell her a dream, let her put on my necklace
Then give her right back, know I had to finesse her
Baby Jesus got more b*tches than Elvis
You know I got 'em, got me feeling like Welvin
You already know that all dogs go to heaven
All my dogs is some felons
f*ck the law, ain't no tellin'
I switched up the pace on the rental
Pull up on whoever, just tell me who want it
I'm flat about all the subliminal messages
My confirmation and n*ggas respect the sh*t
I go to work like a muhf*ckin' Mexican
I'm so unimpressed with these n*ggas
I expected the best from these n*ggas
I'm disappointed, that's to say the least
Somebody wake me up, I'm on the way to sleep
I find it funny how these n*ggas changing on me like I didn't do this thing by my lonely
Like I ain't put work in, no handouts, I earned it, please don't say my name, lil' n*gga, you don't know me
I make it look easy, but don't get it twisted, you ain't built for this sh*t, I promise
I love getting money, I love getting pus*y, and both of 'em come with a whole lot of problems
I'm the future of rap in my city, not to mention I'm known to f*ck up some commas
What you n*ggas know about taking n*ggas money just to go and give it to your mama?
If I love you, I will never let you struggle, I'll give you my last, know I got ya
And it's Baby Jesus, you already know it, ayy