Can't Even Think

Six jacks goin' at one time, I can barely think

All these problems on a **** mind, I can barely think

Six jacks goin' at one time, I can barely eat

All these problems goin' on my mind, I can barely think

Got some bad bitches blowin' down my line, them yo favorite freaks

And you can get them bitches $1,050 if you come through me

Tearing down the streets, I don't usually sell bows

Cuz gotta hunnit in, fuck the mail, you can't smell those

Heard you **** all in boutiques, lookin' for them rare clothes

Bout to put Balenci on my feet, I don't do no shell-toes

Trappin' all this C, tryna get double C, I done said to much

Say you staying down for 30 days, but ain't showed enough

All in my bag, but I don't feel like I growed enough

Fucking up the re-up, hit them J's and I doubled up

Baby said she want a real ****, her last **** wasn't real enough

Need a real bitch on my side, baby girl, cuz I'm healin' up

Sipping on this Wock, Wock, Wocky Flocka, I ain't did enough

Got my head down, lil ****, I ain't givin' up

I can hit yo block, pass it out, now they feelin' us

Lil **** barely makin' plays, I done sold the dust

OG's all up in our circle, they done molded us

Fisher Price, bag ass ****, you ain't old enough

Ain't no pullin' up on 100 Round Gang, we got blicks here

How the fuck them **** dumping bows and makin' brick fare?

You tellin' me this shit ain't bout no pape, then why would I care?

I'll neva tell a Detect shit, I'd rather get the chair

I was leaning on the Wocky, it was like the only thing that cared

Came home ran up a bag, now the hoes want me to hit em bare

I ain't neva ducked smoke in my life, I put it in the air

I wouldn't sip my cup if I was you, dawg, it's a 4 in there

Put a button on every Glock around, we ain't playin' fair

Why when I get on my gangsta shit, these **** get scared?

Baby don't know what to do with me, I'm just to player

I just mixed the purp, wit the yellow, like I'm a fuckin Laker

Hit the road with the load, ****, I'm a real risk taker

I swear if I can get the yola back, Ghost a gram maker

I'm in the kitchen cookin' grits, but I ain't talkin' Quaker

Bill picked the blender up, and he started to shake er'

I know shit was rough for you, but baby, I make magic happen

Dumpin' bows, servin' addicts, all the work, got acrobatics

Zotti bows in full effect, you know the city gotta have it

If I do right on this run, I'll have enough for a Patek