Текст пісні
Love never lasts
I dust my back off
Snakes start breeding in they yard ‘cause they grass soft
Land OT we in a sleeve ride in a black truck
Say it’s personal, when I catch ‘em take my mask off
Come from nothin’, when we pop it, say we assholes
Cash flow, my lil brudda love the back door
My mags poke, table dirty we leave Mastro’s
Hop out while the whip, still drivin’, we see task force
Big to myself, shit, I don’t needa pop it
Bankroll fit up in my backpack, I don’t need a wallet
Blowin’ money, I don’t need a pocket
Niggas talkin’ all this plug shit ‘til they outta socket
I’m gettin’ subpoenaed to go to court about some shit, you lost it
No point to mention out your name, just call that boy Tekashi
Drive safe, too deep in this shit, man, I done seen my twin on grind face
Hud go live yo’ life, we boostin’ up the crime rate
Love never lasts
Love never lasts
“Hud ain’t this, Hud ain’t that”
Like we ain’t have them bags OT, with prices killin’ traps
Like I ain’t put up over a million, outside runnin’ laps
Like I ain’t land back from that trollin nigga gettin’ smacked
Like I ain’t pop out for my dog, call Greez like “where they at?”
Humble beast, I don’t speak on everything
Like I ain’t have a kit you call me, ask me to put on every chain
You’ll do it then, you’ll do it now, I don’t see how shit’ll change
Like you ain’t call me for my clock, ask me wear my watch
Like you ain’t outside wit’ no pole, I call and get you Glocks
Beef start gettin’ a lil deeper, I start giving’ chops
Would never lead you out there blind, know everything I know
Niggas fall out ‘bout they pride, it’s the ego
You dropped my lo’, you had the chance, I sent you free throws
They mixing politics ‘bout bitches, street hoes
I’m just now gettin’ back was down to zero
Love never lasts
I dust my back off
Snakes start breeding in they yard ‘cause they grass soft
Land Ot, we in a sleeve, ride in a black truck
Say it’s personal, when I catch ‘em take my mask off
Come from nothin’, when we pop it, say we assholes
Cash flow, my lil brudda love the backdoor
My mags poke, table dirty we leave Mastro’s
Hop out while the whip, still drivin’, we see task force