Obsolete Lyrics

(Harmonizing)

It's King

You know

It kinda ain't no point if it ain't business

Most of my friends bitches

But to be honest I wish I could kick with these niggas

Like me, Chris, B, and DLo, fuck I'm reminiscing

But this can't be middle school forever

Since then, I've been mixing pressure with my pleasure

Right my wrongs, or at least you think it's getting better

My endeavors wasn't enough, so I ended that shit forever

Cut deep

When you cutting ties, that shit cut deep nigga

When they telling lies, don't it leave the taste bitter?

You can see it in they eyes, steady waiting for a slip up

They pride and ego kick up, and play with you

Got tried, walked away, ain't say nothing

God knew what he was doing, I can loose too much

But if I had it that night, you would've been a star buck

Next morning, Frappuccino, I'm a boujie fuck

I get scared thinking bout what I'm capable of

Or my fam around the block, who stay ready for war

I guess that's every nigga now, who know hitter or something

I guess all you niggas now, need attention, for what?

Lord free me

From overthinking, I get too deep

From behind the fact that I'm better than what it seems

I just know I'm plaque promised, that's one I can guarantee

Bitterness and envy a dangerous recipe

That shit turned my day one to my number one enemy

Adios amigo my nigga you obsolete

(Dead weight)

Acting like you can stop me from seeing green

Being handsome & well versed, this shit a curse

Shit'll hurt a nigga for a nigga hurt

Shit'll spring they bitch, flip ya own clique

Have a couple niggas come and try you with a diss

Funny how when shit go left, they team up

Playing "get back" but somehow don't get they green up

Acting like they two cents is hurting my demeanor

Mad cause I'm a swift nigga who bodying a diva

(Ion get it)

For all my bosses who call they selves having friends

Deep down, these motherfuckers can't stand you

They want the chick you got, that life they despise

Remember nigga, when you fuck up

They can't wait to give you

All the blame

All the shame

Under a bus, lie on yo name

No room for sympathy in this game

Forty-four vices to end that pain

If your crown not the heaviest, is you really a King?

Get out your own way

I said, Houston we have a problem