Print

Bitch, twist up a eighth. I am zap zap I still got a weed man, don't use no weedmaps I said I quit fuckin' your hoe, I'm 'bout to relapse Twenty bitches in the back, that's where we at Sleepy off the brown, in my dungeon and I'm cryin' While I cry she got a muhfuckin' onion And I'm always on my toes, like a muhfuckin' bunion Baby we been through these hoes, been through her like a bundle, uh I like my bitches wet and wavy, freaky Long ass tongue like Kakey, tweaky Said she'd do it better on her knees, call her knee-knee Internet bitch, she a bird, she Tweety I had to see it, see it for myself Be a, Be a shame if that lil' jawn got left Chain in my ring, strawberry but ain't no shortcake I don't know when I'll be back, lil' bih go check the tour dates Bitch, twist up a eighth. I am zap zap Hmm, what the blunt say? Seven-eleven, crap She say she wanna kick it with me, Imma punt that Hmm, coochie juicy, I attack her, I punch that, hmm Lil' bitch, roll the fuck up (Gotta roll your own shit) You ain't put on shit, roll the fuck up (The fuck you thought this shit was 'bout to be?) Lil' bitch, roll the fuck up You ain't put on shit, roll the fuck up, ayy Songtexte Think shit just gon' be sweet, huh? For real though Sick and tired of these muhfuckers coming 'round me tryna smoke all my good shit up, man (I'm tired of these people) Smoke yours, nigga Feel me? Straight up Shit nigga anyway, niggas be needing to be smokin' they own shit anyway Don't pass me shit and don't ask me shit, you dig? Hey yo what's crackin'? It's your boy Buddy givin' a shout out to Smino, grigio, in this motherfucka Yeah Right Ooh-woo Yeah, yeah, yeah Just re-up my product, product (Uh) Bought lil' baby some brand new Prada (Yeah) South St. Louis, she my momma Surprise with sugar, she was just tryna flex the Flat-out, one on one with the bitch like dollar Cup dark like Mahershala Lotta you wanna love Drinkin' 1-800, hope my baby make my hotline bling (Bling) Always 1-800, make you wanna blocka-blocka (Damn) Drinkin' 1-800, hope my baby make my hotline bling (Bling) Always 1-800, make you wanna blocka-blocka (Damn) Drinkin' 1-800, hope my baby make my hotline bling (Bling) Always 1-800, make you wanna blocka-blocka Brand new watch, Barack-a, presidential Perriwinkle purple in my Fanta, Fanta Damn, too much Fanta, lil' Bari said too much Fanta (Uh) I don't beef on carne asada (Nah) I don't beat that corn on the cob up (Nah) Dick like a pistol, never a problem She callin' me-me-me, big poppa Came from the Northside, diamond upped water, woo So, you learn, the game's a game (Yeah) Yeah, fame is fame (Yeah), bitch, you're lame, you're lame (Yeah) Took your bitch to beat the chain Quick to drip like P.F. Fly, shit She ate up pistachio-oh-oh-oh-oh Ay nigga, I was just playing my momma the album She already decided you, you her new favorite rapper, crazy Them folks from HBO just hit me too They wanna use some of that new music I told 'em, "Cut that motherfuckin' juicy" Aus Songtexte Mania