Burnt Brett - Cards lyrics

I got a bad b*tch to my left and my right She wanna come over I don’t fu*k with dikes I can’t fu*k with her it just don’t sit right Gotta pull over the cops wanna fight I got a notification on my phone Its from Brooklyn but that b*tch can stay home My b*tches like a deck of cards cause I got 52 sittin' at home I got money in my backpack aye I really be serving them crackheads aye Making my money, quick bread aye Lowkey I fu*k wit them red heads aye Your b*tch is looking at me like I'm a snack She wanna fu*k on me and I’m breaking her back Then I gotta break her off like a kat But once I brеak her off she actin like a brat Shе saying I'm using her like a welcoming mat Well wonder why my replies were flat Ion give a fu*k about that b*tch she whack I'm on to my next her ass is fat We’re making it slap, we makin it clap, we making it echo in out of the back I'm focused upon my craft I'm gonna blow up, Tunnel Vision, like Kodak Black I’m really living in the dream I got a clingy b*tch and making music that is heat She seems attached to me give it a couple years I'm gonna be on the scene