Letra Left no evidence Larry June

Left no evidence

You gon' lose a lot of people when you better yourself
Cold game
We outside, though
Numbers
Ayy, ayy, uh, uh
Numbers

No second impression on first entrance
Hits when I'm swingin' for the fences (Gone)
A lot of shit I did I didn't mention
A lot of shit I did for no credit and good intention
A lot of shit that deaded friendship, uh
Rappers basic, they lack imagination
Backwards statements at me
God blessed me for my acts of patience
Roads that's leaving home like all the train tracks to stations
Ran through a string of queens, the king is back to aces (Back to aces)
A dirty game but I'm an optimist
When they say it's all the same, I say the opposite
Cook on the chopping block, crook if you choppin' bricks
Put it in reverse 'til we fuckin' first then watchin' flicks
Doin' cocky shit like makin' heat to floppy disks
L.A. won't let me rock no ice without a hockey stick (L.A., L.A.)
Think sun and dirty oxygen, ain't no boundaries boxin' him
And ain't clockin' out or clockin' in

I'm nasty, North Face with the rocket in it
Half a (Uh) in my TUMI backpack, 'bout to rock the shit (Numbers)
Doin' push-ups, I'm off the grid, clockin' in
Count a half a ticket, then I wash hands and pay some bills
I walked in the room and I light it up (Light it up)
And I ain't even rock my ice today, it's a cold summer
(Lookin' at this track enough, makin' sure them loads comin')
You can keep the whole kitchen, nigga, just keep them bowls comin'
Mind on a different mode, blow a hundred casual
Invest a hundred casual, flip it to a hundred more
I've been on ground patrol, tryna shake the black and white
Chemist like Al in the kitchen when I whip the (Uh)
Chops in the back seat, drop with the tan seats (Man)
Nigga, don't compare me (Nah), I be in my own league (Numbers)
Project baby, made it out, took a better route
Fuck the drought, niggas want steam, bring the irons out
Lions out
(Pay me somethin' for low for this, check it out, uh)
You niggas know the drill: you either get down or lay down
Overseas base, SL coupe, no plates
Blue tints in the FN match the blue face
I'm too seasoned, push the F8 Spider for no reason
I remember pushin' somethin' hot, had the touch of Jeezy
It's too easy, I'm cool breeze, a new season
Too genius, niggas feel me, uh