LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeDEAD (With Ty Dolla $ign, Future & Lil Durk)
YeahFuckin' on a IG model, when I get throughI'm kickin' her out, she deadShe dead now, shit over(ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob)Fuckin' on a IG model, when I get throughI'm kickin' her out, she deadNone of my opps ain't poppin' outside'Cause if they do, they deadYoung nigga, iced out, in a new drop-topLookin' like I'm ridin' in a bobsledI can't be playin' with these diamondsI can't be playin' with this money, no wayOoh, yeahMy new bitch a whole mood, yeahTop floor nights, I'm a movieFucked all her friends, she got two leftAyy, in my robe, I'm the new Heff'I'm a dog, I DM my exShe rockin' clothes from five days agoIt's gettin' cold, you need a different coat(Brr)Brodie OD'd off the Xan, I hope my bitch understandI put the switch on a tenThis ain't no regular McLaren, FreddyBitch, get your feet out the bedI'm off these drugs, I don't mean what I'm sayin'I know a killer who forcin' my handPaid him in cashSix carat earrings, don't hear what you sayin'Fly to Saint Barts, put your feet in the sandWhy you run off and I gave you a ten?I gave her a Lamb', might bury a BenzBitch, I'm a dog, I'll marry ya friendBaccarat aura, I'm rubbin' it inBitch, you look poor, you don't got a manFuck while she sore, she be in the bedI fuck off [?] fuck her againWent on my live and I upped a mill'Heard you be lyin', did you fuck her, for real?Butterfly nervous, put on ChanelHold up the line 'cause she posed to AmiriShe want two-hundred, I gave her a nickelI took a pic with the switch in the mirrorFuckin' on a IG model, when I get throughI'm kickin' her out, she dead (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)None of my opps ain't poppin' outside'Cause if they do, they dead (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)Young nigga, iced out, in a new drop-topLookin' like I'm ridin' in a bobsled(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)I can't be playin' with these diamonds(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)I can't be playin' with this money, no way(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)But I'm still in the Lamb' on a TeslaBut I'm still in the Lamb', yeah, yeahStill goin' ham, my hitters MuslimI'm still goin' ham, yeah, yeahDrop 'em and hit 'em, and pull 'em, and pay 'emAin't with the fraud and I ain' with the scamsTyson breakin' shit down for the fam'Ain't with no cap, but I ride with the brimsCustom interior, came with the himCook up the yay', make it jump out the gymCook up the yay', make it jump out the gymCook up the yay', make it jump out the gymCook up the yay', make it jump out the gymCook up the yay', make it jump out the gymCook up the yay', make it jump out the gymTwenty the new thirty, but you still thirtyEvery time you fuck him, why you feel dirty?Put you on the team, gave you a new jerseyMet you in New York, drove you to New JerseyYou don't need to work, girl, you too prettyYou the reason why your friends bought new tittiesYou know what's comin' next, you gotta move with meFound out you fucked a nigga that was cool with meWhen they seen us on the 'net, yeah, dude hit meHow you ain't got no business, but you too busy?For your homegirl got that work done, she charge two-fiftyAll I ever wanted was you to be true with meHouse up in the hills like Drew, with meSame house back in school that you drew with meWe both make mistakes, but is you with me?You know I'm crazy, but you crazy glued to meYou know I'm crazy, but you crazy glued to meYou know I'm crazy, but you crazy glued to meYou know I'm crazy, but you crazy glued to me
LETROU FEATURE
Stage Mode
Large text, automatic scrolling and fullscreen for singing or practice.
FIND ANOTHER SONG
Find a song
Search by title or artist.
SINGER CENTER
Open tools →Train your voice
Breathing, warm-ups, pitch and vocal range.