Kodak Black - Real Shit lyrics

Yeah, I'm fuckin' with this
Shit right here, this straight
Y'all already know what it
Is, this lil Kodak
Man fuck you fuck you kodak the mf shit
I ate angel pussy in this bitch

This that real shit
For whatever shit you goin' through
I check your resume
Before I do a song wit you
You don't feel this? Then nigga
I don't what's wrong wit you
You ain't her daddy
So don't think that bitch belong to you
She's a ill bitch
Fuckin' me and all my homies too
She be on me
So why you think that all she want is you?

I was in that Yoda, sellin' Yoda on the move
Deliverin', I'm takin' orders
I ain't sellin' food
Book bag full of paper
But I never go to school
I use to tote that ball
Now I just keep totin' tools
Yee ain't got no street cred
You ain't even got no bread
You be pillow talkin', boy
She told me everything you said
I be anywhere, go everywhere
Just pull up on yo set
Pull up Panamare, flyers everywhere, oh
They dead
And I'm fresh to death, flyers everywhere
I kill em' dead
I won't fight you bout no bitch
But I gon' fight for my respect
I just post a picture
Now she wanna get all in my chest
And the waiter beep keep knockin'
I can't stop bopin' my head
Damn, I hate when you be stoppin'
Girl just keep droppin' that neck
I'mma hit you with this pistol
If you do that shit again
I love this shit, for real
And it ain't all about the bread
But I see I'm worth it
So now I be all about a check
They buy my shit on iTunes
But it free ride on the web
Cuz I drop that shit, you want
To, you just pop it in, and play it
I don't wear that Invicta no more
I rock Audemars Piguet
Not a killer, but don't push me
Cuz I'm too close to the edge

This that real shit
For whatever shit you goin' through
I check your resume
Before I do a song wit you
You don't feel this? Then nigga
I don't what's wrong wit you
You ain't her daddy
So don't think that bitch belong to you
She's a ill bitch
Fuckin' me and all my homies too
She be on me
So why you think that all she want is you?
You don't feel this? Then nigga
I don't what's wrong wit you
You ain't her daddy
So don't think that bitch belong to you

Road runner, bill, I'm on the turn pipe
Just flowin' through
Pourin' out the seal, I'm
Poured a whole pint, pourin' a deuce
Only real relate, but you won't relate
Even if you fake i was hungry
Cuz my daddy never stepped up to the plate
I'm a snapper, I'm a
Trapper, I'm a chapter, i'm a rapper
Nuttin' personal, but if you want a verse
Then I'mma tax you
I just asked around town about ya
They said you a actor
We can't do no song, fuck the money
That don't even matter

This that real shit
For whatever shit you goin' through
I check your resume
Before I do a song wit you
You don't feel this? Then nigga
I don't what's wrong wit you
You ain't her daddy
So don't think that bitch belong to you
She's a ill bitch
Fuckin' me and all my homies too
She be on me
So why you think that all she want is you?
You don't feel this? Then nigga
I don't what's wrong wit you
You ain't her daddy
So don't think that bitch belong to you