Went Left Letra

I ain’t mean to make you sad
But I can be yo' baby dad
I ain't mean to make you sad
I ain’t mean to make you sad
I can be yo' baby dad
I ain't mean to make you sad
Be, be 'bout me
Nah, for real
You know how it feel
You know how it deal
All my niggas, they gon' kill

Only hit yo' phone when I need that (For real)
Please, don't tell me nothin', ain’t no feedback
Only hit yo’ phone when I need that (Yeah)
Please, don't tell me nothin’, ain't no feedback

Never sendin' me her lo' when she get back at home
That’s how a real nigga know that she don't live alone
And I don't even understand the shit she goin' through
But the shit went left, he went through her phone (Fuck the fire, we got grease)

Fuck with my children
(Southside shit)

Ayy
We'll make your block hot, chop blow torpedo (Yeah, yeah-yeah)
Catch a body, seven shots, make it even, throw three more (Yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah)
I'm a killer and he know
That's on Rock, on Vedo (Yeah-yeah)
Pull up Watts with Greedo
I guap rapido (Yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah)
Rapido, real fast, I get cash (Mmm)
Ayy, any state, send a bag, get on yo' ass, ayy (Mmm, pussy)
Drench, drench, empty mags, make your hood sad (Mmm)
Niggas snitch on interviews, I ain't doin' Vlad (Mmm)

Drop a bag, get up chip, why they call you Cheeto (Yeah)
Drop the big heads, I'll get rid of some people (Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah)
In the jail, I'm poppin' tags, got all these niggas mad (Yeah-yeah)
Rob a pussy nigga in a Margiela mask
California earthquake, get yo' head cracked (Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah)
Windy City with the blower, blow yo' shit back (Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah)
Choppa curl a buff nigga up like a six pack
Four lines of Wock', two of 'Tuss, that's a six pack (Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah)
Drummer Gang, we millionaires, you never get your bitch back
This is not the internet, we never do no chit-chat (Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah)
I don't do no talkin' in New York, always just say less
All Balenciaga (Yeah), 'member I was just at Payless, yeah

Burner phones got group chats, all gang threats
No two opps got stretched off the same text
Bitches kissin', lickin' same sex, that's insane sex
Before I went and bought a Range, niggas knew about that Lex' (Uh-huh)
Sixteen in that Lex' (Uh), red beams in effect (Grrt)
Z06 Corvettes (Skrrt), C-Money green Rolex
If they throw at us, throw back
All black like Malcolm X
I don't even stress if it ain't 'bout a check, fuck nigga
Lot of days I got' take to the grave, you know that's stuck with us (Gang)
Pull up, dump, Mossberg pump, Milwaukee Bucks hit him
Ho you lovin' pull up when I tell her 'cause you nut quicker (Lame)
Plus, I'm rockin' more chains than a slave like a young nigga (Swerve)

Yeah, yeah, yeah (Yeah, yeah)
Shoot a nigga in the head, now he dead (Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah)
Drummer Gang, millionaires, we get bread (Shoot him in the head)
I'm a real street nigga, don't do fed
Any nigga that was sayin' I snitched
I'll leave a nigga body in a ditch (Ayy)
I'll never beef with niggas 'bout a bitch
I'm a real street nigga, you a bitch
Ho-ass nigga, I get dough-ass nigga
You ain't never got no money out no ho-ass nigga
You ain't never in the projects with no pole-ass nigga
You ain't never up in them 'partments on the floor-ass nigga
You ain't never made no
Nigga, dough-ass nigga
You ain't never made no dough-ass nigga
You ain't never made no dough-ass nigga
And I know that you a ho-ass nigga