Karma
You feel that, yeah
Look, look, look
Life is often chilly, yeah
I like soft and sticky, yeah
We can’t talk, you’re barely there
Do I miss the feelin’? Yeah
I think it’s a given, yeah
You think I’m this villain, yeah
I still hope you kill it
When I don’t talk, I listen
But you shoot from a distance (Yeah)
Chirpin’, rattin’, hissin’ (Yeah)
Worthless acts for killin’ fear
There’s no coexistin’ here
My vision’s clear
Oh-four Detroit Pistons, yeah
Chauncey, Rip, swear we was there
Now shit’s different, it’s in the air
I’m too cold for chillin’, yeah,
Plus too grown for beefin’, true
Mood too cold for grillin’, yeah
What would us speakin’ even do?
After all the…
This isn’t you
Let ‘em tell you one thing
And the one thing’s something, shit, you didn’t do
Skirt off in the hooptie
They were tryna shoot me or hit me with the two-piece
Fucked his baby momma in a two-seater
Then took her to the store to buy me wife-beaters
Take a look around, she a sightseer
I don’t wanna talk, don’t wanna type neither
Everything I talk real life
I don’t bite neither
Karma
That’s my bitch right now
You can have her back later, Lord knows
Look
