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letra de sofa - tom the mail man

[verse 1: tom the mail man]
heartless, b-tch, yeah
that sh-t pierced like cartilage
knife through that place where my mo’f-cking heart is
she bad as f-ck so the crime might be pardoned
she like to start sh-t and i push to start it
brand new whip from tdc it’s plastered on the back of it
i pack that sh-t like swisher sweets, i’m rapping on some platinum sh-t
ay, at me b-tch, when you’re talking using your f-cking chest
so i can hyperbeam that sh-t and put my demons all to rest
i flex like like
i’m on some ignorant sh-t
but if you push my limits, b-tch, i might get ignorant quick
like putting n-ggas around b-tches, you like egos that’s big
you got my feelings all hit
and b-tch i feel like a kid
in grown man’s shoes
f-cking dying, n-gga, where the said tools? i’m mental
n-ggas think i’m cool cause i can ride, uh
cause i can ride this, um
this f-cking instrumental

[verse 2: mrtl gawd]
uh, uh, yeah
quesos in my pocket, i exceed the quotas
your b-tch my b-tch, his chick don’t smoke, but you know marijuana’s
on the couch, i’m tee’d out, but n-gga, barely mobile
pop the trunk, yeah, bout that skunk, yeah
i l!ck top of yogurt
i’m fully loaded like i’m herbie, same suit
martin luther, f-ck that b-tchin’
4-5 on the waist
45 i’m back to back
left ’em shook without a hook, cause me and mine go back to back
you know tom deliver rhymes, and he just drop me off a pack
i’m so solo, no derulo, all these n-ggas h-lla pseudo
get your weight up, he ain’t eating how i feast, like i’m a sumo
grease, rest in peace to peep
peeping how i speak, like b-tch i talk it didn’t exist
pistol came in with a grip
main objective is to rid all these n-ggas
i got the x and a-b combo
swear, it’s it for these n-ggas
h-lla rusty, but i’m serving, need a tip from you n-ggas
boy, i flatten out the track, extended clip on my pillow
basic kick, always knocking, line ’em up with a beam
i swear to god, i have ’em stomach talking sh-t
how i’m always talking sh-t
guacamole’s in my molds, like “why he always talking chips?”
and i’m hardened after three the way my mo’f-ckin’ rock get hit
spot him quick and take him out

[verse 3: tom the mail man]
i ain’t got no patience now
you b-tches acting shady so i shine in my mercedes, ow
though it hurts, kick the verse instead of cursing b-tches out
your mama said i’m bout it, pops, so all them n-ggas missing now

[outro]
clout sucking b-tches
dirty toll having b-tches
flapjack booty having ass b-tches (ay, uh)
i’m salty as f-ck (salty as f-ck) haha

(you’ve got mail)

- tom the mail man

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