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letra de four sambuca - babyface from the south

[verse 1}
it’s raining paper in the studio
like who would know a little skinny piece of sh-t white boy would k!ll the flow?
a bone was thrown your way
i hate that you cannot appreciate this gorgeous thicc-ms with the hips to make me reevaluate my whole life
i cannot see why the majority of the population gonna take flight and waste time
it came time for me to say what’s on my mind and disregard if they gone dislike
like b-tch bye i don’t f-cking care
telling me something i didn’t know bout myself
my health is sh-t, i know
although i bestow a million hoes upon a throne of roses to you
i don’t know who knew before me but i know you h-rny
(what?)
“nah i’m just kidding”
(bruh)
traveling through the peninsula
who is ya?
you smokin hooka huh?
meanwhile we smokin on that-
four sambuca huh?
this the dj booth and you look like a puker hun get back from my equipment ‘for you puke or sum

[chorus]
f-cked up in the head, you got me f-cked up in the mental
b-tch i’ll never settle for spitting less than what i am better than
a kamikaze on the mic is what i thought you liked
a pen is what’s getting me through this sh-t with you
i’m spitting truth i knew i’m
f-cked up in the head, you got me f-cked up in the mental
b-tch i’ll never settle for spitting less than what i am better than
a kamikaze on the mic is what i thought you liked
a pen is what’s getting me through this sh-t with you
i’m spitting truth i knew

[verse 2]
i’m actually tryna buy a persona that acts as a money machine
i seen a reason to believe in something that was unbelievable
i skip rocks and i take shots, i’ll blast off in a matchbox
i’ll knock your socks off in a montage better hop off before i f-ckin-

[babyface]
“what the f-”
[carloko]
“yo this sh-t is all kinds of f-cked up right now”
[babyface]
“what the f-ck is this sh-t?”
[carloko]
“bro what the f-ck are you doing bruh?”
[babyface]
“how do i- hang on… how do i change it back? wait i got it”

grind on my d-ck like a ripstick uh
i be that muhf-ckin mystical
r.i.p to the triple extension cord
c0ke in the nose of the hoes, they blow
pull up with that f-ckin tec and a baseball bat to combat the wack rappers
i love you say it back or we gone have to get to clappin
rappin better than you thought i could
i bought a thot i thought was good but it turned out to be the thought of it that was the only thing i could withstand
i will not shake your hand
you partied too hard and now the p-ss in in your pants

- babyface from the south

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