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letra de mr clean - jsavage (can)

[intro]
bah, bah, bah
ayy yo, what’s good crodie?
i keep my glizzy

[verse 1]
name brand b-tch let me f-ck, said she miss my muscles
i swear she be pushin’ thirty, i be f-ckin’ n-gga’s mothers
in that scat pack get to dustin’
my bro in those ends, n0body touch him
don’t like dissin’ on the ‘net, ain’t with the fussin’
this hydro, no robitussin
serve it to sandy and to justin
these custies owe a lot of money
he get hit in his back like boy, why you runnin’?
come here, i’m tryna open your tummy
when i’m in the t, swear that sh-t jumpin’
ain’t no chris brown, swear i leave ’em crumpin’
black mask, you won’t even know who’s comin’
we hop out the truck, bullets get to dumpin’ (bah, bah, bah)
[bridge]
ah
n-ggas try—
n-ggas try to run ’til they get—
’til they get boshed
huh?

[verse 2]
yeah i’m talkin’ my sh-t i just do this for fun
i’m pullin’ her hair and she tryna run
this jigga got me, i think that i’m done
new opp in the air what i’m ’bout to bun
switchy on the back, it take off your m-ffin
sh-t ain’t fair with the press of a b-tton
if i don’t got a knock just know i’ma cut him
last time i seen him had him runnin’ [?]
already know savage come with the hottness
i sell for the high and i get for the low ’cause i’m lovin’ the profits
i just got a lo’, big bro put a tag on his toe, tryna run in there take off his noggin
[?] got a arp with a scope
yeah, i got the g, big bro got the taurus
like it’s warzone, my n-ggas take off your nose
sh-t ain’t a game, there ain’t no resp-wnin’

[chorus]
walk they block, do it on feet
wipe they block down, mr. clean
n-ggas talk but they ain’t neat
i’ll take your head like f-ck the [?]
got this opp b-tch, she love f-ckin’ me
got a lil’ bro, he go dumb for me
if i say “i’m tryna take a trip”, i bet the dogs will come with me
see the motion, now they lovin’ me
shoot a movie, you get bucked for free
i got this thirty on my waist so ain’t no way you’re touchin’ me
if you ain’t my b-tch, a suck and cut, ain’t no cuddlin’
got the smith & wesson, let it bark, ain’t no tusslin’
[verse 3]
since a youngin’ i learned how to hustle
had to get it off the bustle
i was hurtin’ n-ggas, should’ve had a g30
that sh-t abracadabra
can’t hang if you ain’t gonna shoot for me
you’ll lose your life, don dada, no bap
[?]
she like what’s in my pants, a ladder
and my pockets gettin’ fatter
ain’t talkin’ peter griffin, in the trap server peter, want a sample?
some b-tches gon’ slime me for the racks, i know they eatin’ on that apple
step back, swish, n-ggas ain’t know that i had the handles
get back b-tch, my n-ggas had you runnin’ out your sandals
yeah, you’re a dess kid, i don’t even wanna get you dismantled
i know n-ggas be snitchin’ like they randal
i got my tec in my tech in the bando
i love this glizz ’cause it gon’ fight my battles
n-ggas be snakes, watch out for that rambo
i got my glizz so it did not matter
i’ll turn you to a hat
i’m whippin’ up a ten they said he’s whippin’ up a five pack
this glizzy filled up with lead and i got one up in the hat
she said “foreign cars make her drip wetter”, i pulled up in a scat pack
no scope, my bro pulled up with the ruler, keep that in a knapsack
she got no knowledge but she is my tutor ’cause her tongue game past that
i might pull up all black but i ain’t mad max
my b-tch told me i’m a mad man ’cause i love guns and i love fat racks
[outro]
i love new packs
and i love [?]
the f-ck?
and i love bad b-tches
they better come with a phat ass
i swear i love me a new pack

- jsavage can

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