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letra de stamp dat - gloss up

[intro]
(kutta, cut that sh-t up, man)
used to ride the steamers, now my wrist on two degrees
it’s four seasons in the year, and, b-tch, they all belong to me
n-ggas thinkin’ they some dogs, b-tch, i’m eatin’ pedigree
i can f-ck her with my n-gga, that ho still gon’ f-ck with me
hold on, hold on, hold on, i don’t think y’all heard what the f-ck i said
i said it’s four seasons in a motherf-ckin’ year, b-tch, and they all belong to me
i said if i f-ck her with my n-gga, that ho still gon’ f-ck with me (stamp that)

[verse]
collect the cash and baguettes, b-tch you ain’t got no bag yet?
what i look like addressing hoes that don’t even got no f-ckin’ address?
she lookin’ for her n-gga, meanwhilе, he lookin’ in my ass crack
rich-ass baby mama, f-cked around, turned that to a hashtag
you gon’ sh-t on who? thеy ain’t talkin’ ’bout us
might as well stay hid behind that finsta, we know you ain’t tough
might as well stay hid behind them pictures, girl, you lookin’ rough
overhear the money talk, your bank account don’t talk enough
thick as f-ck with a pretty face, he eatin’ me, he got good taste
been beatin’ my competition, why these hoes think it’s a race?
y’all sit around, i run it up, broke-ass b-tch, you good for what?
got motion, these n-ggas know it, only hit him up when i wanna f-ck
you gon’ sh-t on who? they ain’t talkin’ ’bout us
need to be an mua the way i beat these b-tches up
said they gon’ do what to who? who? b-tch, is you an owl?
i ran it up, the way i’m ballin’, i probably need a towel (stamp that)
b-tches said it’s smoke, i ain’t no chimney, ho, quiet down
you run your mouth ’cause you ain’t gotta call me while i’m ridin’ ’round
if money talks, shh, that ho don’t make a sound
rich baby mama, these b-tches been my sons, i whoop ’em like my child
you keep f-ckin’ with them rats, i know you p-ssy
that’s your n-gga, why he lookin’?
just like your chain, them n-ggas tooken
i’m a vet, i’m not no rookie
pushin’ p is what i’m pushin’
said it’s beef, well, b-tch, you cookin’
diamonds dancin’, they ain’t jookin’ (stamp that)
alright, stop, fooley, that’s it

- gloss up

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