So Servin (So Far Gone Remix) lyrics

Walk with a stick, little baby [?]
b*tch ass n*gga, he sweeter than glucose
Ask him "What you say?" like Jason Derulo
Shot a n*gga father, put him in a group home
Call me 'Yonce, got a b*tch on a blue phone
They don't pass me the Glock, yeah they two-tone
Street n*gga, slam the plug like sumo
Might sign to RCA for a record
Pull out an RPG for a weapon
He in the ER, send him to heaven
One in the head, they calling me Devin
Four on his back, they calling him Westbrook
Jake Paul, we ain't throwing a left hook
f*ck that sh*t, I dropped out
You can't get street smarts from a textbook
Outta the chop, feeling likе Monica
OG in jail, he's playing harmonica
Two Glock, Mermaid Man and its Barnacle
Pick up thе metal like I am on Chronicle
Body in the closet , Chronicles of Narnia
Put that sh*t in her mouth like thermometer
My dawg takes percs, now he a vomiter (He f*cked up)
Call up [?] n*gga, he a crusher
Hit on a b*tch that's doing all the cuffing'
Call me Travis Barker, I'm a drumming'
We just put in the work like a jumper
My dawg in heat, this b*tch a humper
He not in the zone, he ain't in his comfort
Jamaican b*tch, keep shaking the rumper
I don't got size, just like an [?]
Real street n*gga, I ain't gon' hold you
Section 8, had the .38 notice
At the home, I water like aerobics
At the home, I add water like I'm Moses
I told that b*tch "Get Out!", no hypnosis
Skub' taking percs, now he gotta hurl
Two-tone Glock, this Sharkboy and Lavagirl
Got a bad b*tch, I know she a problem girl
Real street n*gga, we up and we hit the Drac
Y'all just found out that n*gga been a fake
I can see us holding hands, I don't listen to Justin Timberlake
I took a b*tch on a trip like Ella Mai
Hoodie on, look like I'm boutta meditate
I'm a real n*gga, you know I don't take favors
I hit on a b*tch, you know I ain't save her
He in the fast lane, I call him Dash Dame
Two fat b*tches, I'm getting their waist trained
Two Glocks on my side, I'm Tomb Raider
Never had a heart, I might shoot an eighth grader