Yeah, pack my shit up
Gimme back fucking SIM card
This some real break up shit

Clout-chasin', you lame, you ass-kisser
Think you finessin' my niggas
Think you finessin my figures
Gold-digger, gold-digger
Just like a hoe nigga to lie
Why you trying to deny
All the shit that you plot?
Be a snitch and get popped, Little Bo Peep
Two-faced bitches got me in the car at the red light
Praying to God I don't fuck your face up
Fake love really be some dangerous shit
Check my horoscope
Swear to God, Susan Miller's a fraud

Yo, you used all my soy milk?
Told me that you used it in some coffee
Had some people over from yoga
You really made smoothies?
What the fuck is that?
What the fuck is that?

I'm on my own
I'm on my own

It's not my choice
It's not my choice
It's not my choice
I'm on my own
I'm on my own

I ain't for some bullshit

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): Michael Quattlebaum