"My Soul" lyrics
My soul calls for you
Real life
I learned like
Nigga be more happy when you just living it now. When I live in my past, it be depression, and when I live in the future, it turned into anxiety for real (shit really be fucking with my sobriety for real)
Now back on the road (uh)
And only 8 deep, but everybody toting a pole
You might see me 50 deep, think most of them gon' fold (for real)
I still got a Glock on me, but most of them don't know (shh)
Riding to the riches, it was lonely on that road (uh)
Everybody hit the washer rinse, but Herb had to carry the load (you know that)
Nigga bitches talking like they want to blitz, but just give a hit
And we was really really with the shits before the whips, I was jumping the fence, uh
Put 'em in cement, then I ride in tint (let's get it)
When I go through shit, ain't got nobody to vent to
If he ain't go on hits, you can't talk about what he meant to you (pussy)
And they don't owe me shit, still to do this while I'm rich
I still bang "M"s, don't know if I'ma go to hell
Hope I see heaven with my granny, praying I prevail (G Herbo)
I'm still ducking cells, don't know if I'm gonna go to jail
Tote a Glock at night, and I know they ain't gonna give me bail (damn)
Trying to do right, still doing wrong so I know it's hard to tell (damn)
I never tell on nigga, although I know it ain't hard to tell (fuck 'em)
Y'all know who I fuck with, yeah, I make it hard to tell (fuck 'em)
Never wrote Mawley a letter, although I know they ain't hard to mail (you know I love you)
I was hanging with grown men like Slug and Real 'cause I was advanced
Lotta nigga be talking for clout, they was in the house when I was in jams
Remember I had to run my route, I kick a bitch out just like she Pam
It's 6am in the stu in LA, I flew straight from the yams (skyami)
Remember my first time in my Miami, I'm like damn (damn)
Now I fuck up 50k a weekend, ain't even caring
Pulled up to the stu in high-seaters, truth or dare'n
Now I pull up in that two-seater, new McLaren
Now I pull up in that black truck, Kevlar'd up
I pulled up in every single whip, now I don't get no fuck
I didn't ran through 20, 30 whips, now I don't get no fuck
Fucked it up, I fucked up way too many "M"s what the fuck
(What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck)
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Mm, 'bout no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Mm, 'bout no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Mm, 'bout no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Mm, 'bout no sack
Yeah
My soul calls for you
My soul calls for you
My soul calls for you, calls for you
Real life
I learned like
Nigga be more happy when you just living it now. When I live in my past, it be depression, and when I live in the future, it turned into anxiety for real (shit really be fucking with my sobriety for real)
Now back on the road (uh)
And only 8 deep, but everybody toting a pole
You might see me 50 deep, think most of them gon' fold (for real)
I still got a Glock on me, but most of them don't know (shh)
Riding to the riches, it was lonely on that road (uh)
Everybody hit the washer rinse, but Herb had to carry the load (you know that)
Nigga bitches talking like they want to blitz, but just give a hit
And we was really really with the shits before the whips, I was jumping the fence, uh
Put 'em in cement, then I ride in tint (let's get it)
When I go through shit, ain't got nobody to vent to
If he ain't go on hits, you can't talk about what he meant to you (pussy)
And they don't owe me shit, still to do this while I'm rich
I still bang "M"s, don't know if I'ma go to hell
Hope I see heaven with my granny, praying I prevail (G Herbo)
I'm still ducking cells, don't know if I'm gonna go to jail
Tote a Glock at night, and I know they ain't gonna give me bail (damn)
Trying to do right, still doing wrong so I know it's hard to tell (damn)
I never tell on nigga, although I know it ain't hard to tell (fuck 'em)
Y'all know who I fuck with, yeah, I make it hard to tell (fuck 'em)
Never wrote Mawley a letter, although I know they ain't hard to mail (you know I love you)
I was hanging with grown men like Slug and Real 'cause I was advanced
Lotta nigga be talking for clout, they was in the house when I was in jams
Remember I had to run my route, I kick a bitch out just like she Pam
It's 6am in the stu in LA, I flew straight from the yams (skyami)
Remember my first time in my Miami, I'm like damn (damn)
Now I fuck up 50k a weekend, ain't even caring
Pulled up to the stu in high-seaters, truth or dare'n
Now I pull up in that two-seater, new McLaren
Now I pull up in that black truck, Kevlar'd up
I pulled up in every single whip, now I don't get no fuck
I didn't ran through 20, 30 whips, now I don't get no fuck
Fucked it up, I fucked up way too many "M"s what the fuck
(What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck)
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Mm, 'bout no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Mm, 'bout no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Mm, 'bout no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Nigga can't tell me about no sack
Mm, 'bout no sack
Yeah
My soul calls for you
My soul calls for you
My soul calls for you, calls for you
