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letra de blow a kiss - liveraw gbt

[intro: detroit l-o]

i wake up, i listen to the birds chirpin’
and ummm, i listen to the n-ggas mow they lawns and
i’m bout ready to start the day b-tch, ummm
could you hand me the keys to my caddy?
no b-tch, that’s the keys to the white one, i need the keys to the black one
pay attention b-tch

[hook: detroit l-o]

stackin’ chips, plus she know i like to rap and sh-t
acting sh-t, cuz i’m always sticking to the script
know you hip, and she know that we ain’t new to this
flow so sick, make yo main b-tch blow a kiss
stackin’ chips, plus she know i like to rap and sh-t
acting sh-t, cuz i’m always sticking to the script
know you hip, and she know that we ain’t new to this
flow so sick, make yo main b-tch blow a kiss

[verse 1: detroit l-o]

come with me, give yo ass some raw poetry
flow with me, i’m detroit l-o and she know it’s me
currently, making phone calls while she blowing me
i don’t smoke, but she still tryna blow with me
openly, i make her do the things she say she won’t
on a boat, getting loose after she say she don’t
you a hoax, already know you fluka-delic bro
at the show, yo perfect lady acting like a hoe
you a mess, you saying that yo music is the best
like the rest, you better hope that sh-t get to my desk
in l.a, crib by the beach is where i tend to stay
either way, success could be a phone call away
everyday, i spend the guapele to make it back
cadillacs, all detroit l-o drive is cadillacs
screw the fame, i do it for the love of the game
i’m the same, keep my composure, never go insane
[hook: detroit l-o]

[verse 2: ishaan the rit god]

flexing hard, we counting bread b-tch, you can keep the change
cooking crack, i got em’ feindin’ like they eddie kane
scoring on em, i drive the lane like i was dr. j
paper stacking, hit em’ with beats like i was dr, dre
phone ringing, i blew the money through the holiday
4/20, got double vegas when it’s ganja day
n-ggas suckas, just like a blow pop from the liquor store
we ain’t winning? you must’ve rolled up to much reggie bo
goofy n-ggas, they eating booty cuz it’s tax season
you be snitching, and you be preaching like a church deacon
hustle-nomics, n-ggas can’t see me like i’m john cena
sippin’ martin, i might get married when i find gina
block hot, these n-ggas broke, i swear they all dead
big brody, aim at the n-gga with the bald head
gold bottles, and all the b-tches michael jackson bad
freaky hoes, they tryna cuff me in my bachelor pad
[hook: detroit l-o]

- liveraw gbt

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