corrija a letra Letra DEPARTED por Justin Rarri

Featuring(s) : Smoove'L

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Letra

[Justin Rarri]
Listen brodie I'ma tell you for real how it's feeling when you in that spotlight
Everybody finna talk down, want a Birkin, bitch? You better talk nice
We like murda nigga, we is not nice, wanna walk up to me, better think right
And they gon' keep tellin' lies, they judging, curious
I jus fucked the baddest bitch in a Trump hotel, she hoppin' on it
And you couldn't hold me as a brother, and it's kinda crazy how we fallen
I just pulled up in that brand new whip, bad bitches on me flawless
And you keep on claiming that I switched up, part of the reason that a nigga heartless
And I'm swearing that you coulda been here, just got a pack that new iceberg
I ain't 'bout shit, fuck what you heard, better come up close, and find out first
Nigga bro run down, take off his shoes, put you on the news
Got me lookin' at you, wouldn't done this shit to you

We trap out the buildin', nigga just say how you feelin'
Bitch I had you in my bidness, I'm down in my feelings
None of these lil' fuck niggas, ain't trustin' no leach
I just showed them that my body different
Same niggas that depend on me, gon' start all them rumors as soon as I fall
Soon as I can't pay their part, why the fuck you can't play your part?
We trap out the buildin', nigga just say how you feelin'
Bitch I had you in my bidness, I'm down in my feelings
None of these lil' fuck niggas, ain't trustin' no leach
I just showed them that my body different
Same niggas that depend on me, gon' start all them rumors as soon as I fall
Soon as I can't pay their part, why the fuck you can't play your part?

[Smoove’L]
Certain niggas, I gotta watch for certain bitches
Cut 'em off all the faking, I ain't with it
Pradas on got me catching mad attention
Wanna fuck for the clout and I don't get it
But this come with the life, man I ain't trippin'
I just started the coutin', I ain't finished (Boom, bah)
With my hittas ain't no limit
Don't hit my DMs, won't answer no calls
Rarri throw me the chop, I'ma finish 'em off
Blow the shit out his cap, I'ma watch how he fall
Traumatized from the streets, all the things I had saw
I get real, real fly, I got real mob ties
I just checked my bank account, it's at a all time high
I was young trapping for dubs
One and O with a bag, tell 'em fuck on the love
And it ain't what it seem, I ran out of love
Got a Glock with a beam, it's ready to buss
And I'm prayin' God, that I get my way
And I had it hard through my younger days
They don't understand that we gotta a plan
Put it on God, niggas won't play

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