"Violet" lyrics

Huh, yeah, yeah
You talkin' 'bout Glokk, you ain't talkin' 'bout nothin', nigga
You ain't talkin' 'bout Glokk, you ain't talkin' 'bout
Yeah, frrat

My motherfuckin' Glock, this bitch vital, omertà that spot, move in silence
I'm pissed off, that shit make me violent, I'm droppin' rakes, put the fork down like a trident
Your bitch, she keep lookin', she likin' too, it's like a biker, two horns on his head, he bison
He sold his soul just so they like him, it's frightenin', I missed all the signs like a Pisces
I'm righteous, but Mr. RipOff not the nicest
Advices to help your ass out, I'ma type it, I tried it, these niggas know that I'm the idol
They put Baby Whoa on a vinyl, I'm tryna go platinum, the title
I'm goin' back and forth with my rivals
The Glock, that bitch get me excited, I know that I'm smilin'
He think that he got the one up on me, nigga, the slightest
I'm really tryin' not to be biased

Hang under my belt with the beast and I cross 'em and pop 'em, lil' boy try to reach
Drop money, made sure it's enough for they fleet
Nigga tripped up, ain't no shoes on they feet
I fucked up on drank, ain't know I fell asleep
Duct tape his mouth, I don't want him to speak
My life expensive, can't stop movin' cheap
He got a problem, Glock put him to sleep
He paintin' nails, man, I knew he was sweet
Got chased down the block and ain't seen him in weeks
She sucked my dick and that shit was too weak
But everybody had told me go try out the freak
Plot on they block for two weeks, but I'm tryna get get-back for niggas put hands on lil' Reke
Let me hangout in the trap when I was young, so, on God, I'll take my lil' Glock to the creek
Nigga, I'm not finna wrestle
I pull out that Glock and rock out, heavy metal
He tryna be different, that boys not a rebel
Oh, you see the police? Then press on the pedal
Just Band Love poppin' shit off on my level
Fifteen bands in a ripped up sweater
My brother say he a five-fifth, he catch metal
Don't care if he trap, he get took down for sellin'
She on her knees, she pray five times to Mecca
It might be fake, just go look at the bezel
Take him down with you like Hansel and Gretel
He not a demon, tryna look like the devil
Goddamn, the drugs, gotta figure out the schedule
My trap buckin', everybody together
Chrome Heart pants and the stich on the leather
The vamps, they gon' get on your ass if you let 'em
Out of town, I caught the boy in Atlanta
Spin in the Rolls-Royce, talkin' 'bout the Phantom
Fucked up on drank, we done poured all the Fanta
Hang with the shooters, you hang with the scammers
Play with us, problems, they gotta get handled
I'm drivin', but I got my hands on the handles
You know I'm on fire like a candle
Play with the Wolves like Julius Randle

My motherfuckin' Glock, this bitch vital, omertà that spot, move in silence
I'm pissed off, that shit make me violent, I'm droppin' rakes, put the fork down like a trident
Your bitch, she keep lookin', she likin' too, it's like a biker, two horns on his head, he bison
He sold his soul just so they like him, it's frightenin', I missed all the signs like a Pisces
I'm righteous, but Mr. RipOff not the nicest
Advices to help your ass out, I'ma type it, I tried it, these niggas know that I'm the idol
They put Baby Whoa on a vinyl, I'm tryna go platinum, the title
I'm goin' back and forth with my rivals
The Glock, that bitch get me excited, I know that I'm smilin'
He think that he got the one up on me, nigga, the slightest
I'm really tryin' not to be biased