"Manifest (828)" lyrics

Nigga play during th eday then he dead the same night
Nigga left me by myself when shit went left and that ain't right
I see envy plain sight, wish I can give this fame back
See now I can like this comment, but you can't get your brain back
(Kingyyume)

I said, "Lil' one, what you doing?", he said, "Getting my aim right"
Now you worried about who I'm screwing, them groupie bitches ain't my type
Ayy, she gon' slide when it's time to slide and that's the shit I like
Manifest this shit like 828, bitch, I was on the same flight
Okay, now this one for my niggas, the ones that I can't bring back
Alright now two times for them killers in missions, praying they make it back
This a letter to the real ones 'cause I ain't have the time to write
A letter to the ghetto children, ayy lil' one you gon' be alright

Okay, but fuck it, pocket full of chips, I just left game night
I been double cupping even though it ain't no good, it keep my brain right
I been getting buckets like I'm King James, shoot like Dame, tryna get my rings right
Told her, "Give me head first" then later I might get her name right
Might go insane, still tryna heal from pain, that's every day and night
With me you only get one strike and boy, you better play it right
It's very rare I play with twice, third time's the charm but I ain't nice
Fucked around and out my heart on ice, wouldn't buy it back no matter the price
But matter of fact three hunnid book bags to the hood let's talk about that, let's talk about facts
I'm the one that you niggas wanna rap
The smallest one in the trap, I ain't see none of you niggas there
In this bitch with Dooda and Quelo, first ones in last ones out

I said, "Lil' one, what you doing?", he said, "Getting my aim right"
Now you worried about who I'm screwing, them groupie bitches ain't my type
Ayy, she gon' slide when it's time to slide and that's the shit I like
Manifest this shit like 828, bitch, I was on the same flight
Okay, now this one for my niggas, the ones that I can't bring back
Alright now two times for them killers in missions, praying they make it back
This a letter to the real ones 'cause I ain't have the time to write
A letter to the ghetto children, ayy lil' one you gon' be alright

Now boy you tripping, talking to them pillows, knowing that ain't right
Like these bitches ain't the reason half of these niggas losing they life
He ain't hit, swing back you bet, now miss aim right
Tryna roll a six same dice, make it quick, I got a flight
Thirty for the Izzy price, now bitch you know that come with ice
Any fee involving me now bitch you know that come with tax
Brand new with a on it and you know it came with light
223, nah, for real, probably got more Jordan's than Mike
Probably got more hits than Ike, big knots on me, G lock on me, I did not come here to fight
She wanna fuck on me then fuss with me, I hate it but I like it
Let him get through they day, we gon' be smoking him tonight
Look he just post, I'm finna like it

I said, "Lil' one, what you doing?", he said, "Getting my aim right"
Now you worried about who I'm screwing, them groupie bitches ain't my type
Ayy, she gon' slide when it's time to slide and that's the shit I like
Manifest this shit like 828, bitch, I was on the same flight
Okay, now this one for my niggas, the ones that I can't bring back
Alright now two times for them killers in missions, praying they make it back
This a letter to the real ones 'cause I ain't have the time to write
A letter to the ghetto children, ayy lil' one you gon' be alright