Mentally Unstable Lyrics

There go the dangerous kid

Went and grabbed his easel, trying to paint again

Show them folks what mentally unstable is

Roll some more

Blood on my shoes and clothes

Look like I'm stained with sin

Woah

There go the horror kid

Send him in the morgue again

Don't fuck with The Internet

But I'm still trying to tour with Syd

Don't care bout the credit

Hush nobody call the florist

Pouring tris inside my beverage

Jet to jet, feel like a tourist

Fuck the game with a horses

Wait a minute

Speak directly when you saying that

An angel sent me a bag of weed

And it had my brain attached

120 in this big body

Engine purring, little crazy cat

Want money, gotta hustle like me

And Imma keep saying that

This buss down piece just came from Jacob's

From the South, but I get hyphy

Swangin low lows when I slide in the Yay Area

You fuck round

Hit your face with makeup

Watch your mouth

Or get put down

You try to clown

And I'll quickly come and embarrass you

Who gone pop that player shit like me

Ain't no comparison

I'm off to cop another whip

Trying to see if that Mclaren hit

From public housing to penthouses

That boy on other shit

Headshots at the club, niggas drowning

Don't want see doves again

It's two things I won't do

that's duck a nigga, or love a bitch

Dr. Vault, I'm here to fix the game

Little hoe I'm scrubbing in

If that contract ain't bout cash, I turn illiterate

A product of the trenches

They still questioning why a nigga so sinister

I get villainous, depending when

You niggas press my temperament

Section 8 baby

Could tell y'all boys was just some Disney kids

Vault spit DMT, then mix in Ritalin

Walk down every beat

Off the top, that's my prescription

I'm off the script again

Guh I'll be gone before The Weeknd, XO

I'm blowing kisses out this Bentley

Hope you see through the smoke

There go the dangerous kid

Went and grabbed his easel, trying to paint again

Show them folks what mentally unstable is

Roll some more

Blood on my shoes and clothes

Look like I'm stained with sin

Woah

There go the horror kid

Send him in the morgue again

Don't fuck with The Internet

But I'm still trying to tour with Syd

Don't care bout the credit

Hush, nobody call the florist

Pouring tris inside my beverage

Jet to jet, feel like a tourist

Fuck the game with a horses

Wait a minute

Speak directly when you saying that

An angel sent me a bag of weed

And it had my brain attached

120 in this big body

Engine purring, little crazy cat

Want money, gotta hustle like me

And Imma keep saying that