Intro:
You Know What Of Us, Young People Man
2 Numbers. Don’t Look At Me Like That. I’m Really Praying, My Money
Verse 1:
I’m Open Behind Dark Water
Savage 20 Cornered This Homie Up With Some Death Slaughter. Keno Smith and Jean got you keno up like chess robber, Texas Men got you messed up in the hood without no cold daughter, Perfect Father perfect wife without no hot jogger. I Don’t Care about these kids for them but for man soccer. Each Other Woman needs to get T’d up for some Age Floors. With That Police Department I’ll shoot you down with Cage Doors. Opened The Gate and saw you dead with your Eight Fours. Leon Dead with acid after war mckinley Dead with a fate score, But I saved a woman life on views for money ok skate corps. Meet the woman in my life you kissed me just for a date road. You have my money before I cry without no pay more. Begging me to stop the hunger without a little help without any money for kings. Jefferson Cleave Gotta learn the basics of cooking without no bees, bet it really stings. My crush got me 44 on the chart but thats really thing
Chorus:
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
About- we don’t wanna hear you talk about- Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff. We never want to hear- Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff. Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff. Marriage Is Hard
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
Really sucked up. Really sucked up
Verse 2, (Drake)
I'm living fast, moving mad, I'm a savage on these streets
Got the city on lock, no need to call the police
They know my name but they'll never take my wealth
I'm stacking bills, moving heavy, never holding back
On the grind, never lacking, always on my A-game
Making moves, stacking paper, living life with no shame
Ridin' dirty, keepin' it real, the streets my territory
I'm the boss, the king, the one they all try to copy
No
Chorus:
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
About- we don’t wanna hear you talk about- Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff. We never want to hear- Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff. Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff. Marriage Is Hard
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
Really sucked up. Really sucked up
Verse 3, (Playboi Carti)
"Stacking cash, money raining
Every move I make, a wave of gainin’
Bitches flock like seagulls
When they see me on top, this is my domain
Haters try to hold me back
But I always come back with a clap
Grind never stops, the hustle never ends
Carti in the game, I’m the OG, the trend
"Pockets loaded, stacks on stacks
Flexin' like a king, I'm on top of racks
Rally up the troops, let's make a play
Bitches and bottles, it's a baller's payday
Hustlin' non-stop, grindin' hard in the streets
Cardi's empire, it's expanding endlessly
No time for bullshit, just cash and respect
I'm the boss, no regrets, just success
"Lil Baby, you're just like a pacifier
Always suckling on the teat, no maturity
Carti's the true king, got the whole game on lock
While Lil Baby's still learning to use his Glock
Your flows are basic, your beats are wack
Every line you drop, I just have to laugh
I'm running this rap game, leaving you in the dust
Lil Baby's just a waste, a rapper that's all just crust
"6ix9ine? More like 6ix9 trash
His flows are weak, his beats are just basic
Carti's on a different level, the king of the game
6ix9ine's a joke, his career's in flames
His rainbow hair and tattoos just scream attention seeking
But in the end, his rhymes are just weak and seething
Carti rules the rap world, 6ix9ine can't measure up
Just another fool, caught up in a trap."
Chorus:
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
About- we don’t wanna hear you talk about- Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff. We never want to hear- Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff. Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff. Marriage Is Hard
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
Now Don’t You Talk To Me About This Stuff
Really sucked up. Really sucked up
Outro:
Danny Michele, ahh. But don’t disrespect my homies in the Bronx. Or you’ll die with a pop. Young Money JESUS!
