RELOAD ft. Kermode Zay, Bussen, Rob Buck, Jericho & Jae Lyrics

Yo these trumpets got me feeling like Im at the pearly gates

And that 0-60 make me think Im in as fucking race

And if he try to step to Zay, I gotta put him in his place

Red dot him like a Hindu and dont leave a fuckin trace, I set the pace

Got ahead and now Im running on my own

And if you dont show love in person, please dont hit my fucking phone

And now Im sliding on the beat because Im in my fucking zone

Been grinding all my life and now Im reaping what Ive sewn, I set the tone

I set the bar and now Im leaping even higher

Told Rob, "just pick a beat dawg and throw me in the fire"

And if I told you that I love you, my mom never raised a liar

So if your feelings not reciprocated, no reason to inquire

Im getting tired of this bullshit that they speakin on my name

Got two albums under my belt, talkin like I run the game

Fucking your great aunties daughters sis cause shawty was a dame

Got some money in my pocket, thingsll never be the same

Late nights whippin in the Tesla

Tryna save the gas for my lungs

Sippin on the brews when Im hangin with the crew

I dont really fuck with the Mountain Dew

Blew a point eight at the traffic stop

Told the cop, "I dont really know what thats about"

I dont really drink, I dont really smoke

Just got tatted with some ink, just bought my wife some ink

Just fixed my broken sink, call me Fix-It Felix the way I be fixin this shit

Call me Mr. Olympia, the way I be flexin this shit

Call me Einstein, the way this shit be perplexin

Let this be a lesson, dont fuck with me or Ill bring the full press in

Im an artist, I smoke the loudest

Got your bitch in the Stu suckin dick, she a prowess

Now she mountin, yeah she wet like a fountain

Made me cum twice, I need a rest but now she poutin

So now Im goin ham again, titties so extravagant

Booty keep clappin back like Im a fuckin magnet

Brain so insane, yo she even a graduate?

Way she bowin down feel like I received the sacrament

Yeah her hair so frizzy, when I hit it from the back yeah I get so dizzy

Now she gleamin up my glizzy but wait hold up, I gotta take a pissy

Now she let me hit it from the back again, no kizzy

Yeah her name was Lizzy, smokin hot like a chimney

Curves so spicy like some cinnamon

Backshots imminent, light her ass up like a filament

Smokin on grocery greens aint no cigarettes

Aye, my three like the Heat cause theres no A/C in the whip aye

I told my brother, "take my life if I go out about some bitch" aye

He aint know where she was at until he check her at the crib aye

He aint know that was my choppa til he check under that grip

And my shit gotta click

My shit gotta hit

Go like boom boom boom boom boom

I gotta reload that whole clip

And I guess he still got hit

I aint lie about this shit

You can walk me through the x-ray, I got metal in my hip

I got metal in my pocket, I got money on my head aye

Too much steppin in the Forces, they already turnin red aye

If he lie about that shit, he already knew he dead aye

If he talkin to the opps, I might leave his ass on read aye

And my shooter like a dog, i might give his ass a bone

And he might just pop a perky just to get up in his zone

If I fuck with her believe me Ill be fuckin all night long

If she tell me that she love me, then its not a love song

And its not a love song, its a gettin money song

Its a fuckin bitches every day and sellin drugs song aye

Its a left her ass on read, if she aint knew that was wrong

Its a left her yesterday if I aint fuckin with her tone, aye

Yeah, I aint sniffin no Ketamine

Bitch tryna change me, she make a better me

I know Im vouchin for all of these phetamines

Got all this cheese, my wallet look cheddary

VV my ice, my diamonds December

Eliantte on the tennis remember?

I know they prayed on my downfall

Look at the way that they hate on my ass, know they fed

I had to go get up get up

I keep a strap, the switch on Berettas

Wallet Bottega Veneta neta

Pull up in Bimmers and shit with my runners and steppers

I dont deliver the packs, know they still get delivered

Im blessed cause my runners get figures, I only hire go-getters

Im coppin the S-class, coppin the G-class, coppin more letters

They askin, they beg for a feature

Im sittin court-side not in the bleachers

God wouldve made me 63" but he knew that I had to fit up in this Rari two-seater

Wait cause Im stuntin in this

My shirt is designer, no I am not fucking in this

Money all hunnids and shit

I dont want no paper unless it got blue on the strips