Shit was all good just a week ago
Fiddled with that middle the best
Then you reject, give a little respect, like Aretha, yo
Damn, gotta stop it
I’ma drop it if you pop it outta pocket like a pita, though
I need a ho that gon’ let the cheeba grow then receive a blow
Instead of pushing me in a Living Single Latifah show
Hear me out, though
Shit be normal and then you severely out your noodle and really groucho
Your silly mouth go illy on the milly
Until we shout so drill me ’til it kill me
And should be outro
Pms-ing me nothing but a demon recipe
I’m seeing that could be being a threat to me fleeing effectively
You don’t get to be effing me when you wrecking me
Guessin’ we on confession regressin’, ’cause we in a mess debris
I’m ’bout to issue a check for you to follow
Connect to who you swallow or excommunicado
Into the bottle, regret
You threw the lotto in Tech
‘Cause boo, ya hollow an ex
You blue in sorrow, I ain’t tryna paint a dark picture
But I think that I needed a heart to heart with ya
But when the spark hit ya thinkin’ that your bark sicker
With that imbalance this smarty art nigga
Never been a fart kisser
I mean I can only take so much
You say some real shit, I’m like, “Hold up”
Never fails, every month, girl, you go nuts
Snappin’ right out of it like nothing and be like, “So what?”
Actin’ like it ain’t nothing when I’m so sick
From the cold diss that you spoke with
I’m ’bout to kick you to the curb like I’m Colquitt
Or let it roll off of me while you bringin’ up old shit
Why? I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do
You actin’ a ho, girl, no, girl
Don’t know what you be going through
Question mark this
What’s the matter with you? It’s like it’s a habit with you
If I ask you don’t call, don’t text, I can’t take that PMS shit
Shit was all good just a week ago
Now you ’bout to see repercussions from when my heat explode
PMS, PSA, this a message to you weaker hoes
I be the best in LA, it is not a fucking secret, yo
I am not the female no-one, I’m Lex Bratcher
But all these captions like, you should gas that, Lex huh
Spittin’ with the illest and I be killin’ niggas feelings
Gotta go drilling
Nah, fuck it, you can have that Tech, ha
She throws, these little niggas know I cease flows
Decrease the peace from the West to the East coast
Keep killers with me, they from The Bay, they lethal
G’s with me doin’ more GTA than Niko
Why the fuck you talkin’ that shit? But I peeped, though
Copy my raps and that’s facts like they’re at Kinko’s
I’m in my bag, so get mad, ’cause dad you had your grasp
But fumbled your sack like at casinos
I know that my flow is vital
I be the IV to half of these pie holes
Try me, they sorry, s-s-stutterin’ high notes
I never thought I’d collab with my American Idol
But Tecca N9na hit me up ’cause he like the way I be rippin’
Spit more content, got more fire than Scottie Pippen
If I’m honest niggas will probably never get this
Gotta be rockin’, mama said keep them pots and pans in the kitchen
Like damn, you were supposed to be my G, ayy, man
Now they chalking your body dead in the street, amen
All these motherfuckers sleep
I’ma have to Lowrider George Lopez to my three AM
Hoppin’ on your bros, where they do that at? Question mark
I don’t know but ’round here we act serious
Head all bashed in family saddened
I’ll leave a pussy bleeding and that’s on period
Hey Tech
What’s up, Mel?
Why you gotta flash on me like that though, man?
Tech, when have you ever known me not to flash on you like that?
You feel like that’s cool? You know what I’m sayin’?
Why you gotta sample a nigga like that though?
Man, that’s what the fuck I do
Why? I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do
You actin’ a ho, girl, no, girl
Don’t know what you be going through
Question mark this
What’s the matter with you? It’s like it’s a habit with you
If I ask you don’t call, don’t text, I can’t take that PMS shit
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