Bored - Intellectual

[Chorus]

Bitch, this shit on the floor, floor, floor

Bitch, I be talkin' my shit I be bored, bored, woo, bored

You text my phone on that shit, you ignored, 'nored, woo, 'nored

You runnin' up on that shit, we gon' blow, blow, woo, blow

She wanna see me, said "Come to my show," oh, oh

That bitch a treesh and we already knew, knew, oh

Rick Owen jeans all on me like some Trues, ooh

I knew that you was gon' leave me, it's true, ooh

Bih, I'm in that— uh

Whip with the blackout tints

Sippin' that shit, I might pass out

I got a stick, I don't lack out, bitch

Playin' that shit, I might black out

I might pull up in them blackout tints

Playin' them games, you gon' lag out, bitch

I don't miss frames, I move tact' now, bih

Young nigga block hot like Miami

I can see you a bitch, but that's not in me

I went up, now it's stuck, what done got in me?

All my choppers, they sing like they got Grammys

I might fuck on your mother, not granny

I got too many sons, like I got nanny

Tell that ho that I want dome, but not fanny