fickle Lyrics

Are you sick? Are you dripped? Yeah yeah yeah

Save the pic, flavor it, yeah yeah yeah

Walk around saying this and that

Don't tell me you told everybody that you get the bag

'Cus you a fake fuck, turn it off, you ain't making hits, bruh

I got thousands of dollars under my list of

Who you are and who you wanna be

Yo girl don't wanna rock a beat

Reluctancy to fuckin' tell a sorry cheat

You're way too insecure

Quit making fickle slurs

You're trying way too hard to be the shit, yeah

But imma tell you that shit ain't gon' get you this far

Back, back, back it up now

I see you packing up your bags, wrap it up now

'Cus you ain't going nowhere

You getting no shares

Why would you go there?

All the time, you don't care

You rap about shit but you ain't living it

I see your tracks all the time, got me feeling pissed

Give it up now, wont make a buck now

You talk about that Range Rover but it wont be found

'Cus imma drive through in my Mach-EX

You talk a lot of big game but you wont be next

I'm fucking on that bitch raw, I got no protection

You pull up to the studio but you choke the session

'Cus I hit that bitch, one take, and I send it

My lyrics come from real shit, no pretending

Fucking scrap that new song 'cus it's so pretentious

Pitch your vocals down but your words got no expression

You a fake fuck, turn it off, you ain't making hits, bruh

I got thousands of dollars under my list of

Who you are and who you wanna be

Yo girl don't wanna rock a beat

Reluctancy to fuckin' tell a sorry cheat

You're way too insecure

Quit making fickle slurs

You're trying way too hard to be the shit, yeah

But imma tell you that shit ain't gon' get you this far

Fake fuck, turn it off, you ain't making hits, bruh

I got thousands of dollars under my list of

Who you are and who you wanna be

Yo girl don't wanna rock a beat

Reluctancy to fuckin' tell a sorry cheat