Sweetwater Remix (Bonus Track)

Fuck you mean us against the world It's me against I nigga Aye it's Mr. steal yo majesty It's Mr. rock that clothing boy Pop out in New York I'm still that Minnesota frozen boy Hit em with that 3 4 your favorite rapper folding boy Sippin' on a peach torch, faded like a Polaroid I can't do no mixing, leave it for the white kids Walk up in the stu' and beat it up just like I'm Tyson She texting me at 3 AM like when can I come slide king I'm like shi right now you read my mind just like a psychic Poppa use to sell that fifty cent out the Wallabee Skipped step nine cause I can't do no damn apology I just went to France and copped a vintage bootleg Prada piece I can't do no college they ain't got no brickonometry Hanging with my goonies Hanging with some big guys Choppa fat as fuck I gave that shit a number 6 with fries I can't fit yo L's no more I think I need a bigger size I put pain up on my tracks, you probably sit at home and cry I feel like I'm Arnold Moving all this weight around Cuzzo dropped me at the crib and now the weight is safe and sound Fall done did me dirty, I don' eat and lost a couple pounds Now I'm skinny legend Shout out to my bredren Rap game in pieces got me tiptoe steppin' Kick you out my company and give no severance Brother caught a case for the big body weapon So fuck up out my face I don't need your presents Aye, say fuck up out my face I don't need your presents Aye, fuck up out my face I don't need your uh And it's I against I