letra de real steppa - hellraco
[intro]
yeah, uh
yeah
yeah
[hook]
i swear that my n-gga a steppa
no, we don’t give a f-ck what you reppin’
that boy get to dissin’, we teach him a lesson
b-tch, i’ma do me, i don’t need you to lecture
pop that p-ssy like antidepressants
that boy say that it’s smoke, i’ma press him
baby, i’m gone, i left racks in the dresser
baby, check your phone, i left you a message
i know these b-tches can get a lil’ messy
who f-ck is you? b-tch, get outta my section
you don’t wanna try it, b-tch i keep a weapon
h-ll no, b-tch, no weapon shall prosper against me
i started this sh-t, swear to god, i’ma finish
i see that boy low on racks but i got plenty
this ain’t no marc jacobs, the glock in the fendi
that boy mr. krabs, i know he penny pinchin’
[verse]
that boy ain’t no steppa, i know he ain’t with it
i’m leavin’ no witness, no, i cannot risk it
got too much to lose, so i run up these digits
i looked at my momma, i told her i did it
i seen that boy momma cry, know that she miss him
i know he was chasin’ them millions
swear, that’s why i keep me some minions
yeah, these people, they know i’m a menace
got that .30 pokin’ out my britches
actin’ like he was like that, got hit with that heater
ganger went super saiyan, free my n-gga geatta
you don’t know what i’m sayin’, i make you a believer
yeah, f-ck poppin’ a xan’, i might pour up a liter
get me out my element, showin’ my ether
had to let that ho go, show that b-tch i’on need her
yeah, i let that ho go ‘cause that b-tch was just teasin’
thought she knew better to play with the man
yeah, i get this sh-t out the sand
i take the risk, whatever, make them bands
you know i’ma do what i can
i took his b-tch, she wan’ f-ck on the cam’
know she ain’t sh-t, she gon’ f-ck for them gems
boy, get ya weight up, need to hit the gym
always gettin’ my way ‘cause they know that i’m him
[hook]
i-i-i swear that my n-gga a steppa
no, we don’t give a f-ck what you reppin’
that boy get to dissin’, we teach him a lesson
b-tch, i’ma do me, i don’t need you to lecture
pop that p-ssy like antidepressants
that boy say that it’s smoke, i’ma press him
baby, i’m gone, i left racks in the dresser
baby, check your phone, i left you a message
i know these b-tches can get a lil’ messy
who f-ck is you? b-tch, get outta my section
you don’t wanna try it, b-tch i keep a weapon
h-ll no, b-tch, no weapon shall prosper against me
i started this sh-t, swear to god, i’ma finish
i see that boy low on racks but i got plenty
this ain’t no marc jacobs, the glock in the fendi
that boy mr. krabs, i know he penny pinchin’
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