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do the math - skyte lyrics

[chorus]
look, stackin’ the clip on yo’ stupid ass
i’m makin’ double, you made n*gga do the math
she say she don’t got a ride home
i get to laugh and i turn to a uber app
stick out the flash like a iphone
you better hope it don’t hit when the ruger blasts
there ain’t no place where i go
see a opp lackin’, i aim and shoot his ass

[verse 1]
b*tch, i feel like jonah hill, yuh, she could get super bad
i geek up, i throw that pill, yuh, clip got a ruler mat
ups, i creep through and move the pack
shoot first, n*gga know we ain’t shootin’ back
n*gga mention my name, get his noodle wax
smoke my opps and my bro like “where [?] at?” (yeah, yeah)

[chorus]
look, stackin’ thе clip on yo’ stupid ass
i’m makin’ double, you made n*gga do the math
shе say she don’t got a ride home
i get to laugh and i turn to a uber app
stick out the flash like a iphone
you better hope it don’t hit when the ruger blasts
there ain’t no place where i go
see a opp lackin’, i aim and shoot his ass
[verse 2]
and i came along them, we gon’ miss when we spin on your lo’, where you been? can we two attack?
n*gga, open your banks, go and put in your pin and just transfer the racks in my mula app
sendin’ shawty out of town, man, i swing with a gen and then take out yo’ dog, get your [?] back
i’m the lion king, b*tch, i’m the cooler cat
hold that mac, all your hear is a “brrat”
i need oven mitts, i’m havin’ hot heat
b*boy box, i can find asm, avalon, crete
i got sauce, i out*drip you with the f*ckin’ white tee
want that top, ain’t no conversation, come and gawk me
b*tch, you lost me, talkin’ ’bout i’m your top three
all i know is one, if i’m not then why you talkin’?
want too many pills, wake up on the f*ckin’ concrete
i just want brain, i’m thinkin’ just like a zombie
i got the grip on a c
i dont’ play choppa big titty, b*tch made it look like i’m k’
catch me a hat, tryna up me a ring
i be here too much, they think i work for the bank
drown in my gigs, i belong in the tape
come and guard me, n*gga, come get in the paint
i’m farmin’, i’m in the spot with the drank
go garnet, he catch a fence in his face
i’m parkin’, bro already out the wraith
mark it, put a bullet in his face, darn it
i done bloodied up the page
if she he want the meat, i put pudding in cake
tryna save music, kids in a track in a state
better duck when you see me, you look to you late
this n*gga broke ’cause i took all his pics
all my apes tryna shoot, planet of the apes
fake id granted, it was fake
i still got in the club with yo’ b*tch, mate
red hot bullets, burnin’ out the tape
let her step up, it’s his death day
think i fell in love with makin’ chase
marry the guap, i’m like “yes, bae”
they got all mad that i’m up next
p*ssin’ ’em off when i flex, ayy
yeah, yeah, okay
p*ssin’ ’em off when i flex, ayy
jump on the gang, that’s a death day
cut ’em along, n*gga, checkmate
[outro]
yeah, yeah, uh, uh*uh, uh
cut ’em along, n*gga, checkmate

- skyte lyrics

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