Voicemail lyrics

[Intro]
Let me find out you see me callin you
I ain't finna keep blowin up yo phone
Like I'm one these thirsty ass b*tches
You got me f*cked up
I don't kiss no ass b*tch my IG lit I can f*ck any n*gga I want though Forreal
You act like I'm tryna be yo b*tch or sum
I just want atleast a lil respect
I know you ain't no where there wit yo ugly ass friends
And them dirty ass di*k doing hoes off Instagram
Keep playin wit me Ima send them n*ggas to yo crib
b*tch now call my phone right now !

[Verse 1]
f*ck on yo b*tch kick ha out on ha ass
Cts v man that b*tch like a bullet
You pull up I'm leavin yo ass
30 round clip we ain't beatin yo ass
Buss on ha lip now b*tch go bout yo business, every minute
I run up that spinach I'm up in the A
I just left outta Lenox fly to LA put my di*k in some b*tches
Jog to the bank everyday hella fitness
Ask the tellers them b*tches is witness
Might f*ck a b*tch but don't tell her my business
She set me up wet that b*tch like the fishes
650 just me and beretta you tweak and then hollows a leak out yo blatter
Hop innat coupe and I'm smoking yo Jetta
Hit her 2 times drop her off where I met her
[Verse 2]
I'm ballin so stupid
Took hella racks out the bank and I blew it
Took that new coupe off the lot then I flew it
Empty the clip out the Uzi then threw it
Aye got that drink in my fluid run in yo trap and make hella confusion
Hundred round clips we jus come in and shootin
Hop in that straight and u know that I flew it aye
My pockets they look like Rick Ross
You run up I'm bringing yo life to a hault
That b*tch give me too many calls that b*tch irritatin
I cut that b*tch off shut that b*tch off left that b*tch lost
Hop in that rarri and stomp that b*tch off
b*tch wanna whine but I don't got the time
f*ck her two times then I cut that b*tch off
I just spent a bag on my diamonds
Hoes do whateva I say like I'm Simon
I pour me a 4 den I'm flyin run it up no tony hawk I be grindin
My b*tch look like she come from the island
She keep me straight cause a n*gga be wildin
n*ggas so tuff it be havin me dyin
Marco he all in the cut like he spying

[Verse 3]
Bullets be flying bodies be flying up in red diamond t
Hem hundreds be flying
b*tches be going and b*tches be lying
n*ggas be cuffin em I don't be trying
I just be f*ckin em then I be duckin em
Me trust a b*tch n*gga you lyin
Honcho gang b*tch we be running through racks
f*cking it up get it back everytime
[Verse 4]
n*gga run in here it ain't one of those
Mac 10s FNs it ain't on those
n*gga want war let a n*gga kno
Heat seakers go right thru a n*gga fro
I'm Rollin up woods all a n*gga know
Bring a swisher then I point yo ass to door
LV my b*tch stragiht frm the store
LV on my belt gotta couple those
Set a n*gga up wit a couple hoes
Den wet a n*gga up like a water hose
Gotta getta check then its adios
b*tch I got more dough than dominos
Steady pouin up 4s finna overdose
Steady f*ckin yo hoe finna Letta go
50 round clip we a let it go
Then smoke dope like we ain't Neva know