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letra de cocoa butter - real boston richey

[intro]
woah
blow the, uh
uh
blow the whistle, uh, uh, blow the whistle, uh
blow the whistle
listen up

[verse 1]
i’ma tell you one time and one time only
you f-ck a broke n-gga, huh, i’ma pass on it
you say you got a big old ass that’s super soft, then show me
they throw my music on, these b-tches gon’ shake more ass than jam pony
i’m like what you gon’ do if a rich-ass n-gga want you?
don’t forget ’bout none of them days that n-gga left you sad and lonely
i’ll pop a pill, then f-ck her fast, then throw some racks up on it
you can’t hit my main page, but i’ll put the spam on you
i f-ck her good, make her bust like back to back, the rounds up on her
i’m on top of her doin’ the crybaby, i done threw a tantrum on it
i’m a proud trick, i ain’t shamin’ sh-t, bae, this my testimony
guard your heart like teflon, f-ck ’round and threw a vest up on it
now take your right hand and put it on your knees
i f-ck her good for sure, i’m gettin’ her door keys
only thing i’m runnin’ from is police
every time you move that ass, i throw a bill on each cheek
[chorus]
how you claim you a bad b-tch if you f-ckin’ a known buster?
iron sharpen iron, b-tch, you need to be f-ckin’ a hustler
that n-gga you f-ckin’ a lame, come f-ck on a n-gga with structure
you a bad b-tch, i’m on your body like cocoa b-tter
i’m tellin’ you, girl, you f-ck me good, i’m hittin’ it without a rubber
if i ask you do you love me? you better not stutter
you ever do me wrong, hmm, your ass in trouble
i’m dyin’ ’bout that baby, that’s word to my mother

[verse 2]
mhm, pop out the cut with a, with a big old cutter
i’m too clean to be fightin’ these n-ggas, i don’t tussle
i’m like you too fine to be treatin’ that d-ck like it’s gizzard
the way you be eatin’ me down, only right i tell my n-ggas
i’m like that ain’t no diddy, ah, that ain’t no h0m-
every time i see a bad b-tch, i jump in go mode
every time i pop out in the city, they takin’ photos
i feel like rollin’, baby, blow it right up throw your blowhole
n-ggas be hollerin’ they rich junkies, your ass a custo
every time they see a n-gga get burned down, they say stop the gun smoke
i know my lil’ b-tch out here f-ckin’, i still won’t drop the blunt, though
every time i’m in a-town, my b-tch treat me like hunxho

[chorus]
how you claim you a bad b-tch if you f-ckin’ a known buster?
iron sharpen iron, b-tch, you need to be f-ckin’ a hustler
that n-gga you f-ckin’ a lame, come f-ck on a n-gga with structure
you a bad b-tch, i’m on your body like cocoa b-tter
i’m tellin’ you, girl, you f-ck me good, i’m hittin’ it without a rubber
if i ask you do you love me? you better not stutter
you ever do me wrong, hmm, your ass in trouble
i’m dyin’ ’bout that baby, that’s word to my mother

- real boston richey

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