Forgot My Bars lyrics

[Intro]
(Marc Boomin)

[Verse 1]
n*ggas askin' why my pants saggin'
Probably 'cause of this Glock .23, I'm never lackin'
b*tch keep callin', tryna ask what's our current status
Run into your crib like I need everything, rip up the whole mattress
The IRS gon' have to come and get me, I ain't payin' taxes
n*ggas workin' for a job everyday, checkin' in with master
He was already down, I shot him again, he checked out faster
Tell a label come with a hundred million, they can have my masters

[Interlude]
Damn, I just forgot the next bar
What the f*ck I just say?
I just—, no, no, no
What the f*ck I just say?

[Verse 2]
None of my plays goin' through, it is just not my day
You don't look out for your n*ggas, that is just not okay
n*gga callin' me his mans and we just met today
You shoppin' with the wrong n*ggas, you just got your ass laced
Your mans might be hatin' on the low, test him and see if he two-faced
Them Rolex be too cheap, f*ck the red and blue face
I'm 'bout to get this sh*t sold, I want the green and wock cases
I'm 'bout to hop out in the field, let me tie my shoelaces
Money comin' in in bags, it's like a n*gga printin' paper
'Bout to make some fake IDs, I need some ink and printing paper
Choke slam a n*gga on his back and beat his ass like Undertaker
How you want it? I'll square up with a n*gga and chase him down with a laser
[Interlude]
Alright, what the f*ck was I 'bout to say again?
I keep forgettin' my bars
Alright, yeah, alright
I got it, I got it

[Verse 3]
I'll make a n*gga beatbox, SpotGottem
Oh, you need some weed, drank, and Percs? Pull up, the spot got it
This n*gga said he wanna drive the weed back, just lobby it
Remember bein' twenty deep in the hood just mobbin'
My lil' n*ggas be slidin' everyday while they dodgin'
When I get my foot in the industry, I'ma dominate
I got some indoor bowls for 23, but they half shake
Shot a n*gga in his right arm, now he half bake
I got on Supreme and Louis V, the one collab they made
Every time a n*gga tell a story, he over exaggerate
It's crazy, a n*gga will run off over a lil' pape
But you know I ain't trippin' 'cause I still got a full plate
She asked for my number and I gave the b*tch the full eight
Throw the Glock to my mans, he gon' pull that b*tch like Clay
Think I need a money counter, I've been countin' sh*t all day
I done made at least five to ten racks in each state, count that up

[Outro]
I keep f*ckin' forgettin' my bars
Punch me—, no, no, no, don't punch me in, man
f*ck this—, I'm leavin', I'm leavin', man
f*ck this
Alright, I'm 'bout to come out there