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letra de guapanese - fire octagon

[intro: fire octagon]
woah, yea, yea, yea!

[verse 1: fire octagon]
yea, we got sprite in the stu
and we mixin’ that sh-t with the wockhardt
and i get racks every day of my life
if you try to f-ck with me we gon’ let some shots fire
you is a b-tch, and i’m whippin’ up bricks in the kitchen
and flippin’ that sh-t, make em trip
i got stickies on stickies and bl!ckies
we rip down the strip with the clip on my hip (aye)

we flippin’ bricks in the trap, and the whip goin’ fast
cause i live what i rap
hit on the gas while we hittin’ the gas
hope i don’t crash, got 200 my dash
i drive an ambulance so i can pass
all of you goobers, you all on my ass
skippin’ school, yеa i be late for class
alladat sh-t that you put out was trash
my wrist a camera, way that sh-t flash
oh my goodnеss, ok, ok, wait
[verse 2: fire octagon]
my windows be tinted
yo whips, it be rented
i win and you didn’t
you p-ssed and i’m gettin’
so much guap all on me
i got a monopoly
i got yo b-tch and she ridin’ on top of me
suckin’ so sloppily, you movin’ awkwardly
i’m who you want to be, speakin’ so properly
there ain’t no stoppin’ me, but if you talk to me
i’m speakin’ guapanese, you speakin’ flop-anese
oh my god!

i’m from abu dhabi
zaza in the lobby
if you try to rob me
glocky, it’s gon’ poppy
yo b-tch wanna top me
she gon suck me sloppy
imma cop the wocky
i got fire, taki
ain’t no walkie talkie
yo sh-t h-lla wonky
you can neva stop me
i got ice like frosty
[verse 3: tumer beets]
i just pulled up in the rover
counting this cash, said f-ck it and bought a new sofa
got these off-whites, yea they moma
ate too much popeyes, f-ckin went into a coma
smoking this green
rubies on my chain, they bleed
b-tch i need me a thneed
sipping on wock, p-ss in my c-ck
just went and bought a glizzy with a beam

got all these rocks on my watch
i go to the top and you watch
she give me top in the drop
make the beat stop
i drop a song and it’s hot
don’t f-ck with louis, man my wallet billabong
don’t f-ck with boxers, man i pull up in a thong
this not a freestyle, man i just wrote this song
yeah i just wrote it

[verse 4: fire octagon]
f-ck wit me, you get exploded
sippin on wock, pour a four, i feel bloated
alla you copy my moves, like, “it’s noted!”
sippin this potion, yea it’s so potent
b-tch i be pourin’, you sleep on me snorin’
i got the ap, i feel so important
all of this guap, and you got a shortage
got a new chain cost a house, mortgage
want me to rain in the drought, pourin’
i don’t even say the amount, but it’s gorgeous
i got a new 40, and my drip absorbant
i got me some rick, but i ain’t talkin’ morty
i f-ck wit yo’ shorty, my fiji imported
i got 50 thousand on me and i throw it
my diamonds they wet, and you already know it
you b-tches is fans, and you boutta blow it
[verse 5: tumer beets]
bought me the yamaha, ninja, ducati
ride em to h-ll and back, like she gone ride me
b-tch i got shooters, man don’t even try me
yo b-tch gon’ eat me up like some salami
benjamins coming in, yen on my table
my bank account status you would think a fable
chains weigh a ton, my neck is disabled
this track a nursery rhyme, for the cradle

- fire octagon

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