letra de bukkake - bizwtf
[chorus: digbar & biz]
stretch stretch like a band you gotta make last a month man
brodie in j-pan mix a sucky up with mud
shorty tweak and ran each way with my bukkake in her b-tt
lil’ spanish b-tch she always call me papi when i nut
i ain’t smokin’ on no brocolli i’m just chillin’ in the cut
stackin’ bread i can never break bread for a sl-t
heat! he was in them shoes i ran them out of b-tches
he postin’ bands but we all know that they’re counterfeitin’
where the f-ck my bands that i spent it all on tree
i ain’t smokin’ on n0body i bought all this sh-t for me
d-mn, look, but on some real sh-t is ballin’ a sport?
these n-ggas got no money like a hole in their shorts
if i could book the rolling loud you know i’m going of course
i hop on beats and then i eat them without holding a fork
[verse 1: biz]
trip, trippin’ might be flying way too close to the sun
my birdie poppin’ up like when the f-ckin’ toaster is done
man that’s hard i’m not gon’ cap, i just slide with the gyat
uhh, got two fns you know i’m spinning that in between her legs a chef kiss, know i’m coming back
[verse 2: digbar]
i bout sprained my d-mn wrist just stomach through these racks
she going crazy on my sh-t i started cumming on her back
she had a nice lil’ booty but it wasn’t nothin’ fat
still hit it out the park, straight centre i’m joey votto
started calling out the guy when it hit him these holy hollows
[verse 3: biz]
diggy f-ckin’ b-tches in the back of the bmb ass the face ass the face human centipede hit it in the front yard lookin’ for that tmz
nutted on her face watch it sprout like a chia seed
i ain’t gotta switch oh my god this a smg
run his ass down with that life ain’t a remedy
put a cameo on my verse like i’m stan lee
can’t trust a hoe if she always actin’ friendly
[chorus: digbar & biz]
stretch stretch like a band you gotta make last a month man
brodie in j-pan mix a sucky up with mud
shorty tweak and ran each way with my bukkake in her b-tt
lil’ spanish b-tch she always call me papi when i nut
i ain’t smokin’ on no brocolli i’m just chillin’ in the cut
stackin’ bread i can never break bread for a sl-t
heat! he was in them shoes i ran them out of b-tches
he postin’ bands but we all know that they’re counterfeitin’
where the f-ck my bands that i spent it all on tree
i ain’t smokin’ on n0body i bought all this sh-t for me
d-mn, look, but on some real sh-t is ballin’ a sport?
these n-ggas got no money like a hole in their shorts
if i could book the rolling loud you know i’m going of course
i hop on beats and then i eat them without holding a fork
letras aleatórias
- letra de hear ya say - tony lucca
- letra de chill wif homies - preezy jxmmi
- letra de padilha - klyn
- letra de left alone - campusanis
- letra de sights & sounds - lupia
- letra de illuminati - ily
- letra de couldn't wake up - catherine maclellan
- letra de lost angels - swae lee
- letra de yurinka - dorian dead
- letra de glock - izvne