WestWrld Repz - Manifesto Lyrics

What are we callin the fake friends that'll leave u for dead
What are we callin the gold diggin bitches snitchin to feds
Ill never ever trust a bitch that would leave if I lost any cred
I never had to treat a friend dead but now we embed
Easy to take, grave vines, like a bullet of lead
Fake, Fake ,Fake, Fake
"My neck insane", shawty is out of her maf*ckin brain, ay
Okay, Okay, Okay, Okay, Okay
Trace hoes, case closed, im rich, bezos
Say so, plain hoe, fame chose
Im back, so ima go count on those pesos
Deep throat, knees sore, keep close, we bros, teeth gold, speed boat, bleed broke
Need mo, so i can go black on a bank note
Teatro, C Note, Migo, Beat 4, flee coat, sea cloth, we know
Keep note, the time and the money I make hoe
Makin music is a f*ckin pashion
Thrift shop with the ghetto fashion
Trigger finger and she gonna flash it
New whip, and she gonna crash it
Treat a bitch whataver neccessary, cold february
Born to october, pleedin the fifth
Stackin up assets, playin the rich
Finna ball out, like scottie and pip
Come to the show, ull die to the trips
F*ck on that, Morty and Rick
Cookin up my muthaf*ckin manifesto
Needa espresso
Down at the diner we cookin DNA hoe
Who shot the migo
Life on the line who u lettin roll the f*ckin dice
Wonder if it gotta price
Ziplock bag, don't look twice
Im countin up dollas, that bitch make me hotter, she bouta come smoke it for real
She bounce on it 365 but I aint spend a dime so she in for the feels
The Copy and Paste, the faker the face, she playin me like its a game
Im callin her name, I play her same, so really I couldn't complain
They f*ckin up assets, the f*ckin the trends, i spit in they face and they makin amends
I try pretend, I f*ck w the trends, im gettin the money, ill count it again
Ill write it again, while ridin the benz, you talkin bout killin, u makin me cringe
I put up wich u, u mistake it for friends, they dickridin u so i gotta pretend
They talkin bout Money Lisa
Im Leonardo, ina minute the scotts'll be callin for a feature
She call me the devil I didnt confess so she callin for a preacher
She sick of the shit that im pullin I'm catchin her fallin wit a fever
I said I'll never leave her, I gotta confess
Puttin that bitch in the past tense
Scared I'll be trippin on...(yuh)
Scared ill trippin on mad 10's
I dont react, u can ask them
Black beatle, but I'm actin
New beat that I'm cashin
New whip that I'm crashin
Scared Ill be talkin about em and they freeze
Shit talkin, got ma heart on ma sleeve
Figuring out what the music should mean
Theres no way to know if somebody agree
Killed they career so they turned into theives
Prayin because they got children to feed
So send em to jail so they'll neva be seen
It only make sense when u holdin the key