​​i f*cked up... lyrics

[Chorus]
She want some love, lil' b*tch, no, I cannot
I went to sleep in some real Number (N)ine
We goin' up, I ain't checkin' the clock
I f*cked up, now TSA lookin' through my bag for the Glock
I f*cked up, forget I'm locked up, tryna score me some lil' drop

[Verse 1]
Everyday sippin' that red
Walking Dead zombie, lookin' like young n*gga dead
And I cannot feel my legs
All this Oxy' man, I think it's gettin' to my head
I slide on this sh*t like a sled
Why you hatin', bro? n*gga, go get you some bread
And get the f*ck off my di*k
n*ggas mad 'cause it's Ricky every time I step
You could get right and get left, studs all on my belt
No you can't get help
I did this sh*t by myself
I f*cked that bih by myself
I just be dressin' myself
I just be drippin' myself
Yeah, we livin' in hell
I got that blood in through the mail
Made a salon b*tch do my nails
Don't wanna talk b*tch, hit my cell
You wan' hit a drug b*tch? Hit my Zelle
I'm not a hood n*gga, I'ma player
Call up dark lord, have him cast a spell
Y'all n*ggas still livin' in your shell
Break out that b*tch, go and get some M's
Break out that b*tch and go and get some b*tches
Tie the b*tch up, put her in submission
She textin' me back, yeah, I know that you miss me
And I'm textin' her back 'cause I'm missin' the feeling
Two hunnid Oxy', you don't know that feeling
Ran out of Roxi', had to get to sippin'
I know this sh*t really f*ckin' up my kidney
But I don't give a f*ck, yeah you know that I get it
Yeah, know that I get it
[Verse 2]
Up in a four-door slow
b*tch wanna give me that throat
I don't remember her name
She only care 'bout that dough
I just be playin' the game
And sippin' on red slow
And I cannot hang with a lame
Fasho, nah, no, bro
And she fasho not yo' ho
I was f*ckin' that b*tch I knew, yeah
While you blowin' up her phone
But you wouldn't know
I'm keepin' that sh*t on the low
When I see you, I'm clutchin' that pole
Yeah, b*tch I'm ready to go
You already know

[Chorus]
She want some love, lil' b*tch, no, I cannot
I went to sleep in some real Number (N)ine
We goin' up, I ain't checkin' the clock
I f*cked up, now TSA lookin' through my bag for the Glock
I f*cked up, forget I'm locked up, tryna score me some lil' drop