TD from AP

“AP” Yeah Uh, uh Look— I ain’t gotta bust an AP, bitch, I live in AP, They gon’ think I mean the wrist ’til I tell ’em where I be. I don’t put it in a verse if it ain’t really me, Still can make the truth expensive when I put it on a beat. Walk in clean, no stylist came and picked the fit, If I say I got it on, that mean I really picked the shit. Ain’t gon’ tell you ’bout a hundred if I never touched a brick, I’d rather flex the way I think—make a dumb bitch feel sick. (Damn.) AP, AP, yeah, I’m really in the Pass, I ain’t got it on my wrist, I got the letters where I’m at. Funny how they spend a bag just to say ’em in a rap, I can say the same two letters and ain’t lied about a fact. 😭 Southside, Gulf breeze, salt sittin’ in the air, Pretty bitch, messy curls, six diamonds in my ears. I can make a plain truth hit like somebody brought a flare, They be makin’ up a life—I make mine sound unfair. Uh— I don’t need a rented whip for the picture to look rich, Don’t need somebody else’s money just to talk my shit. If I ain’t got it yet, “not yet”—that’s literally it, ’Cause eventually is colder when you know I’m gon’ get it. They flex what they purchased, I flex how I adapt, How I catch one contradiction and unravel the whole act. You can dress a lie in diamonds, still a lie under that, I just tilt the whole perspective ’til the truth fall in my lap. AP, AP, bitch, I’m already there, No bezel on the wrist, still got AP everywhere. And if someday I buy the watch? Then the bar double back— Had AP before the AP, now tell me that ain’t hard as fuck.