Vince Staples, Mustard - MAGIC

Feeling like I'm floating to the ceiling, is it magic?
Baby, tell me why you disappearin', this is magic
I won't ever tell 'em how I did it, it was magic
Can you imagine?
Money in the mattress, love the way I stack it
I can make it rain blue hundreds, can you catch it?
If somebody come through bluffin', I'ma blast 'em
And tell the police I don't know what happened

If I gave a fuck about a citch, I'd always be broke
I'd never get to pull up in a Benz with my locs
Growin' up, we was poor, so we hopped off that porch
With a gun, tryna blow, tryna kick down your door
But that's old news, spreading love now
Sick of police lights, sick of gun sounds
Niggas' bread ain't up, so they come foul
But it's handshakes, hugs when I come 'round, wow
Funny style, hate to see a nigga smilin'
Hundred miles and runnin' through the public housin'
Movin' mountains, fuck who I was stumpin' down with
Gunnin' down shit, sittin' in the back of Crown Vics
So janky, know them niggas down the street still hate me
Hope lil' baby know that she can't play me
Dumb ho, love cost but the game free, dumb ho