My Soul

(Taylor Michael turn it up)

(Trauma Tone)

I walk in the booth and I pour out my soul

Sold all these P's to buy diamonds and gold

If we talkin' G, then I'm fittin' the mold

Bitch, I'm the shit just like I'm a commode

You comin' home with me, baby, come on

What's all that hate for, lil' nigga? Come on

I swear your silhouette turnin' me on

Turn them bags on my artists, they get that shit gone

These niggas ain't ballin', they injury-prone

Had to cut this bitch off, she keep callin' my phone

I make her scream, I make her moan

I put the 2.5 inside of a cone

Got her wet like a yacht on the beach in Miami

You still see her ass through them pants and they baggy

Got that pack on the way, I just checked on the trackin'

My bitch on the way, she gon' give me some action

Yeah, I'm on Rodeo, I just seen LeBron

I swear I feel better with you in my arms

I know for sure that the world in my palms

I'm burnin' on pressure, that shit make me calm

She love watchin' me spit on the mic and make songs

I love watchin' her frolic around in a thong

Yes, it's true, Money Man is a king like I'm Kong

I'm stayin' sharp like the sword and the stone

Fly as hell, you know I'm fly like a drone

All my hoes sexy, they bad to the bone

I lift niggas up, I don't put niggas on

800 bucks for an ounce of cologne

I swear she conceited and no, I can't blame her

She all 'bout her business and no one can change her

I trap in the projects, that shit be so dangerous

These niggas be crossin', that shit got me angry

I turned down the show, the promoter was janky

I just met a hacker and he had me thinkin'

A nigga want smoke, then I'm leavin' him stankin'

I don't shoot the breeze, but I will shoot this rifle

I be flippin' them whips, I just got me a title

She come to the spot and give head like a visor

I don't have a budget, I don't need advisors

Oh, oh, oh

♪

Oh, oh, oh

I walk in the booth and I pour out my soul

Sold all these P's to buy diamonds and gold

If we talkin' G, then I'm fittin' the mold

Bitch, I'm the shit just like I'm a commode

You comin' home with me, baby, come on

What's all that hate for, lil' nigga? Come on

I swear your silhouette turnin' me on

Turn them bags on my artists, they get that shit gone

These niggas ain't ballin', they injury-prone

Had to cut this bitch off, she keep callin' my phone

I make her scream, I make her moan

I put the 2.5 inside of a cone

Got her wet like a yacht on the beach in Miami

You still see her ass through them pants and they baggy

Got that pack on the way, I just checked on the trackin'

My bitch on the way, she gon' give me some action