[Intro]
Gang
Yeah
W3
Swisha Talk
Yeah

[Chorus]
I get too lost in my feelings
What is this that I'm feeling?
Money tall to a ceiling
Stack it up to a million
Gotta get it
I trust no hoe
That be grilling lettuce
N***as be snitching
Boy ain't no telling
I call my bro
And he get the yelling
I pour a whole four
With no Smith and Wesson
Yeah
I get too lost in my feelings
What is this that I'm feeling?
Money tall to a ceiling
Stack it up to a million
Gotta get it
I trust no hoe
That be grilling lettuce
N***as be snitching
Boy ain't no telling
I call my bro
And he get the yelling
I pour a whole four
With no Smith and Wesson
[Verse 1]
Know my Rollie chain on gold
N***as flexing like I’m on the fucking honor roll
I'm the bankroll
Know I’m flexing that’s for sure
I'm the bankroll
Treat my n***as like my own
Your bitch liking what I own
These ain’t Converse
These Rick Owens
Rock expensive clothes, yeah
All my clothes are sewn
She be feenin'
Yeah she blowin' up my phone, yeah
All night
Yeah she blowin' up my phone, yeah
It’s alright
She get benty
She like sipping on Patron
Then she hit my phone
Say she need that new Vlone
Bitch get off my phone
I don’t like your tone
I don’t like your tone, yeah

[Chorus]
I get too lost in my feelings
What is this that I'm feeling?
Money tall to a ceiling
Stack it up to a million
Gotta get it
I trust no hoe
That be grilling lettuce
N***as be snitching
Boy ain't no telling
I call my bro
And he get the yelling
I pour a whole four
With no Smith and Wesson
Yeah
I get too lost in my feelings
What is this that I'm feeling?
Money tall to a ceiling
Stack it up to a million
Gotta get it
I trust no hoe
That be grilling lettuce
N***as be snitching
Boy ain't no telling
I call my bro
And he get the yelling
I pour a whole four
With no Smith and Wesson