Letter from My Ex

I got a letter from my ex bitch In the trap-house tryna whip it whip it whip it wrist Yeah alright here we go Tryna wrist it wrist it wrist it wrist I got them bands in the ceiling bitch We got them bands on bands Yo man mad he mad Got a letter from my ex bitch In the trap-house tryna whip it whip it whip it wrist okay With my left wrist That boy quise okay Ya'll thought i was playing Yeah yeah I got a letter from my ex bitch She say she really really stressing So i put that wood up in her life And now she say she blessed My weed so loud my weed so stank My weed some pressure No this is not no regular yeah This is some zah-zah okay Yea we smoking on some zah-zah In the trap-house tryna get it She keep calling my phone yeah until she get it yeah I been still whipping it up yeah yeah In the kitchen yeah yeah What you want need right now right now right now you can get it yeah yeah I'm making money right now yeah Don't be silly yeah Monday through sunday trap beating don't forget it yeah You know them hoes across the yeah across the across the city I mean the bity Eeny meeny miney moe i don't know who to choose Yeah too many Yeah my boy k.r.a.c.k baby finna get on There's a letter from my ex You watching all my moves so i can't miss a step They say i'm up next but i don't pay it mind though I'm doing this shit blind fold like damn where the time goooo No jewelry don't do rhinestones Swear i'm never lying homes Put yo bitch up on a plate Medium rare steak Eat her she gon get ate I could never hate No one knows my fate We ain't got no trust You are not my ace Take but i don't bother We gonna get farther Thank you holy father Cuz i was on the bus But i ain't make no fuss Some shit you cain't rush I ain't out of time so in god i trust A flooded out ap now you gotta bust I'm not talking blickies but i leave yo t-shirt sticky I'm a little odd so i'm steady digging ditches I had talk to god he said don't die bout these bitches