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dir3 - lost lyrics

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laid up in the casket, once again i had to trust you
guessing this the end, i pop a perk just to forget you
steady making bands, up in my feeling like a benz do
flexing on this hoes, you ain’t different from this b+tches too

molly in my eyes, i’m levitating with the whole crew
pour out my feeling to a mic in a f+ckin booth
running to my bag, you can miss me out the front rule
finger on the trigger, finna bust ain’t gon miss a fool

last night in the truck when we was tryna huffle scuffle (aye)
i just flex up on my ex but that b+tch came right with the tussle
yeah, loving you again was just like loving on the devil
she just left me in the dark and put my heart right in the cuffle (on god)

poppin all this xannies ever since i left you (yeah)
i thought i was wrong buh you wasn’t right too (na)
gave up on my shii and pop a seal for you too (aye)
murder on my mind we sippin lean and rocking bool (on god)

played me like a fool u was doing the wockhardt
takeoff like a rocket finna pop out to mars now
drip right from the socks until the top ain’t gon stop now
chrome up all on masi we gon run up the bands round (let’s go)

left me in a maze buh i ain’t got no one to pick me up
spitting on the bass coz when i land they wanna diddy bop
tryna keep myself and i ain’t looking for no breaking up
glock up on my lap i ain’t gon clap because i keep it tucked (aye)
choppa make him dance he be singing the amazing god
you just got me stressin im depressing then u f+ck me up
get up off my ass b+tch i dont want do this anymore
now you out my way and best believe im def gon live it up (on god)

yeah yeah im def gon live up
yeah yeah im def gon live up
keep my head right on vision wanna see me up
now we out here in atlanta in a f+cking club

laid up in the casket, once again i had to trust you
guessing this the end, i pop a perk just to forget you
steady making bands, up in my feeling like a benz do
flexing on this hoes, you ain’t different from this b+tches too

molly in my eyes, i’m levitating with the whole crew
pour out my feeling to a mic in a f+ckin booth
running to my bag, you can miss me out the front rule
finger on the trigger, finna bust ain’t gon miss a fool



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