Dont Worry / Molly lyrics

[Part 1: Don't Worry]

[Intro]
I, still got it, my n*gga
Don't worry 'bout me, n*gga
Never worry 'bout these n*ggas
Skill level on fleek, n*gga
Out in South Beach where the weed
I came up that's how it seem
Shout out my big brother king

[Verse 1]
Tiller quit playing boy, you got this
Turn up on these n*ggas, make the knob twist
You know I've been going through a lot of sh*t
I gotta start thinking 'bout the positives
Came up on a check, I take it to the bank, deposit it
She hate when she tell me one thing and I do the opposite
That's just how I be when I be thinking 'bout the guap and sh*t
Like I give a f*ck 'bout a hater hypothesis
If you putting money up, put your bands on him
That's your best bet, cause the man gon' win
If sh*t get outta hand, I put my hands on him
Damn, Tiller you went Super Saiyan on them
I'm about that action, put the cam on him
True, n*gga all hell broke loose
Live from the motherf*ckin' L-O-U
Doing numbers, getting numbers in my cell phone, too
Like viewer discretion
Come through with a weapon
My crew is the sh*t and your newest sewer the essence
I blew through the finish, ooh but you was in second
I'd do a song or two with you if you was impressive
Cut you a deal on it if that's what you were suggesting
You getting me too congested, I think I need Mucinex
Cause you sicken me, like "Can I get a freebie?"
Are you kidding me?
I gave your b*tch a third of my di*k, she want the trilogy
She feeling me
Never met nobody real as me
That's cause most of these n*ggas weak
Keep the shade coming, boy, you never offending me
And you better watch your b*tch, cause yo that's my way of getting even
I call it tricking season, I ball like Reggie Miller
Never been a petty n*gga, don't say that for any reason
n*gga it's go time, been that the whole time
Really speaking, and n*ggas know I did it in no time, ay
I did it in no time ay
Trap$oul on the motherf*ckin' way...
I gotta go on the motherf*ckin' way
Lexington I'm on my motherf*ckin' way
Young Tiller
[Part 2: Molly]

[Intro]
Molly
I got the trap, and the soul
I ain't just R&B, no no
Word
The sound fresh to death like so-so
b*tch I'm bound to get- bound to get next
So here we go, here we go!

[Verse 1]
I'm a young boy coming out the 'Ville (true)
This sh*t still don't seem real (no)
If I don't do it n*gga, tell me who will (who?)
Young Tiller ball like Lucille (Luc'!)
Young Tiller keep it too trill
Went from Papa Johns, to popping up in your city
Now I got a piece of mind, I gotta keep a new b*tch equipped
She from the islands
Trench coat mobbin', she want me to holler
I can't help it that I'm modest
And why these n*ggas lying? You just act like an Impala
When you should be more like nada
Yo, seriously, don't!
Versace my cologne, my city I put on
I did it on my own, b*tch I'm more than just one song
Call me what you want, just don't call when I'm in my zone
Gotta put my phone on Airplane mode
All my n*ggas share they hoes, but I'm so stingy with b*tches
Big bank in my britches, lit dank in my swisher
Get faded no clippers, I hang with them hipsters
Don't you compare me with any of these n*ggas