Lyrics
(Stupid Dog, I ain't gon' lie
This bitch hard)
Bitch, I'm working magic
Pouring potion at The Hip Hop Lab
Turtle Pie hit for six hunnid
For the Ziploc bag
762s make his ass hit a TikTok dance
Road running, only G station
Ain't no pit stops, man
Shooter versus shooter? Bitch
I got a hunnid slips on stand
Them ain't Mike Amiris, bitch
You had to nerve to rip yo pants?
Talking foreign cars
You ain't never went to drift no land
Out here rapping knowing damn well
You don't get no bands
A plus, bitch, I'm talking excellent
Back then for the giffies
Would've walked to Lexington
B22s nowadays, I'm walking elegant
Brodie off some medicine and
Kill you off adrenaline
Pocket full of dead prezis
Wrist got a skeleton
In Louisiana, team scoring like the Pelicans
Bitch asked do I win, shit, do the Devil sin?
10K or better if you ever catch me sell a BIN
Huh, shit, we on one
Should we hop up in the booth
Or go and road run?
SBDSM, bitch, we got out own guns
Keep our name up out yo mouths, bitch
You don't know none
Always posting sticks on the 'Gram? Bitch
Blow some always talking pape' in yo raps
But never show none
You want a bad bitch but can't
Afford to get her toes done?
Shit, you on one
OT on some shit you can't afford to do
2021, Solo cup, 1942
Four hunnid in the coffee cup
This some Morton juice
Niggas be my sons, boy
Don't make bring Maury through
Got the gift, boy
Yo baby lit like a Christmas tree
Big balling
Walking outta Saks with the biggest sneaks
Pushed the buffs up my nose
I'm the biggest geek
He was crushed when he found
Out all these bitches cheat
I'm the alphabet, all these X's
All these double G's
Mister Leave A Bitch Where I Met Her
I'ma fucking leave
Drop a flame in yo bitch DM
Bet I fuck with ease
They be asking 'bout that one opp
He in a Russian Cream
Ha ha, that nigga too dead
Bitch talking 'bout she love me?
I was too dead
Only thing better than yo bitch
Neck is too heads sayonara to my old hoes
I'm counting new bread
Huh, shit, we on one
Should we hop up in the booth
Or go and road run?
SBDSM, bitch, we got out own guns
Keep our name up out yo mouths, bitch
You don't know none
Always posting sticks on the 'Gram? Bitch
Blow some always talking pape' in yo raps
But never show none
You want a bad bitch but can't
Afford to get her toes done?
Shit, you on one
How you out with no money?
You a different breed used to be ahead
I know they sick we done took the lead
Tron Sleeve Nash 'cause he rich
And he look like Steve
Tryna be somebody you not is not that P
Life hit you with a left
Hook when you least expect
It's about how you take the
Hit then swing right back
Acting high off that reggie bush?
You ain't Ling Ling, jack
Hutch piece
I look like Bling Bling if he was black
Grinding like a skater or a
Whip with some bad brakes ricky Bobby
Don't nobody care who came in last place
Put the hoes down 'cause I had
To get my bag straight
You can give a bitch the world
And she'll wanna have space
Ducked in my duffy till it's time
For me to pop out ain't no double back
You send a shot? You getting boxed out
Stan pieces hit like, come here, Floyd
Come get knocked out
ShittyBoyz, we the ones they used
To try to talk 'bout
Huh, shit, we on one
Should we hop up in the booth
Or go and road run?
SBDSM, bitch, we got out own guns
Keep our name up out yo mouths, bitch
You don't know none
Always posting sticks on the 'Gram? Bitch
Blow some always talking pape' in yo raps
But never show none
You want a bad bitch but can't
Afford to get her toes done?
Shit, you on one
WRITERS
DANILA KOZLOV, JERMAINE ROSS
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Songtrust Ave
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