No Sense

[tool: 歌詞滾動姬https://lrc-maker.github.io]
Yeah, yeah (Supah Mario)
(That boy Cassius) Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ( Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Hey (Hey, that boy Cassius)
That stiff dawg, shit, nigga, uh
Skinny-ass nigga in some big Balenciagas
My girl was mad at him so I took the bitch shoppin
Drankin champagne, spend the racks all in Prada
Everybody know that he a big shit popper
Smokin ice cream, rollin on some peach cobbler
Hitters on the payroll and a couple doctors
Why the **** you think I pour up all of this Wockhardt?
Hit the alarm on the Rari and it go (Brrt, brrt)
Park the Rari, jump in the Challenger (Skrrt, skrrt)
Feds watchin me so I scramble em (Shakе em up)
Had your bitch at the room, but I had to put out
She too freaky, nah, I couldnt handle her ( Damn)
My young niggas walk around with chandeliers (Damn)
Yeah, chandelier the shit Khaled talkin bout (Damn)
Dolph hit the club, then the bitches comin out (Damn)
I heard the opps in the club, nigga, point em out (Bitch)
Nigga, stop all that hidin and runnin round (Rrah)
I make your broke-ass brother gun you down (Rrah)
Damn, you too thick, girl, turn around (Rrah)
Lemme smack it one time and see how it sound
Millionaire but I make my boy lay you down
They dont give a ****, they dont play around
Somebody text me, so I look down
My bitch waitin on me in a Gabbana gown (Gabbana gown)
Yeah, bitch, I still wearGucci
Im chillin with a groupie, beatin up her coochie (Beat it up)
Uh, Glizock, my life a movie (Glizock)
Guess who shoot it? Your bitch, I dos it (I do )
Uh, ballin real hard, no recruiting, yuh (On God)
Paper Route winnin, never losin, uh (Gang)
Before I drop the top, I been ruthless, yuh
Give it to em raw like sushi, uh (Raw)
Yuh (Yuh), yuh, still goin dumb (Dumb), uh
Mr. Glock, the baguette don, yeah (Baguette)
Exotic smoke in my lungs, ooh (Yeah, yeah)
I really came out of them slums (Out em)
Im finna buy me a house with a pond (Yeah, yeah)
Yeah, and I put this shit on my moms, yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I think I was born with a gun (Yeah, yeah)
Im a son of a gun, uh (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Bitch , you know where Im from, yeah (Bitch, uh)
South Memphis, filled up with villains and gremlins
Lil niggas with extensions on guns (Thirties), yeah
Dont play with the kid, you know how I get (You know it)
I get that shit done (Done), uh
Maybach on my wrist, this young nigga lit (Lit)
And a Porsche on my guns (Woo), duh (Duh)
Shit dont make no sense (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
This shit dont make no sense (No sense)
This shit dont make no sense (No sense)
Shit dont make no sense (Make no sense)
Shit dont make no sense (No sense)
Yuh