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letra de big drip squad - sauce twinz

[intro: sauce gohan]
ayy

[verse 1: sauce gohan]
i got three flip-phones, your b-tch call all of ’em
your b-tch stalk all of ’em, had to put a pause on her
i got louis v on, i got double g’s on
i got d&g on, sh-t, i got three designers on, ayy
b-tches talkin’ ’bout bora bora, but ain’t even comin’ strong
and these n-ggas broke, been watchin’ dora, tryna swipe my vlone
and the opps still drop of course, lil’ n-gga, how the h-ll we into it so long?
we been on the road for three months, how we been on tour for so long?
i been gone, chasing paper, been counting franklins, huh
jackson wanna be a b-tch about it, so i took his ass to jamaica, huh
f-cked his b-tch and made him think about while i’m ridin’ around in mercedes
in that mulsanne like a mayor
blew up fast like crack in the ’80s
ain’t sh-t free, lil’ b-tch, come pay me
thirty-five racks in the stash like kd
i’m a young g.o.a.t. in this sh-t, no jay-z
vvs diamonds clear like hd
money obtuse, lil’ n-gga, you scalene
hit saks fifth, i’ma buy new givenchy
glock 33, i’ma shoot ’til it empty
big backwood, lil’ n-gga, you skimpy
it’s a rat in your circle, lil’ n-gga, you finished
i’ma shoot for my name, lil’ n-gga, don’t tempt me
just ridin’ a wave, you n-ggas ain’t drippin’
hundred racks stashed in the back of the bentley
new iphone ’cause the last three flipped
three new fours ridin’ down lake michigan
i been in this sh-t, lil’ n-gga, you sissy
new big b’s and i got ’em from missy
[verse 2: sauce walka]
fire up the backwood
put the b-tch in timeout, she ain’t act good
big booty white b-tch act hood
bought a louis couch where i once stood
boy, ain’t no feeling rich or feel this good
you was with the b-tch tryna kiss good
i was with the b-tch tryna pimp good
flight out to cali, hope the trip good
know i’m gettin’ clovers when i land like flip hood
you look at my mouth, it’s game over
this a rolls-royce, not a rover
i used to hustle for over
shoot with the soldiers, sleep with the cobras
i cut down the grass and exposed ’em
put the weed wacker up, it got colder
still walk ’round with my rocks on my shoulder
people wish i would stop and be over, woo
these n-ggas thought i fell off
well, it turns out i’m well-off
and you wouldn’t pop a sh-ll off
your brother’s in jail and your cousin tell
and you won’t send no mail off?
and y’all call a p a sellout?
i should tell you f-ck the h-ll off
that was really your brother, no stepchild
i thought blood was thicker than water
you buyin’ gucci and prada
ain’t sent your brother a dollar
[verse 3: sada baby]
ain’t nan’ these motherf-ckers loyal, huh
most n-ggas hoes from the get-go, ooh
ran that bag up by myself
now i’m outside blowin’ more gas than a citgo, do it
got more gas than a citgo, move it
bandana tied up, right leg buddha
got b-tches in line, they beggin’ and chosin’
i could get your baby mama b-ttnaked all in the studio
show me that coochie-hole, b-tch, hmm
pills in your bootyhole, b-tch, hmm
can’t set me up, know you’re acting for your movie role, huh
i’ma leave you alone, b-tch
leave a n-gga drenched all blood like dmx
i got a hundred-round drum, consider me a threat
heard you a snitch, got your people and your feds, how you ain’t dead?
shoot a n-gga, put a n-gga one in his head
shoot a n-gga lookin’, then come through the glass
cook a n-gga, leave a n-gga layin’ in the grass
stupid n-gga, you a student in the hall without a pass
chastise a nerd-ass n-gga, get harassed
big dome bully, knock him on his ass
i’ll make me an opp n-gga son go sell my packs
put him on the corner, cut class, get racks
huh, with the light voice, i ain’t slime nor slatt
skuba steve been a young thug way before rap
i been get you f-cked up way before rap
no cap, i shoot, i bang, i scr-p, duh, duh
get you way before rap
i shoot, i bang, i, i scr-p, mm-duh
boy, lil’-ass n-gga
huh, better check your move, lil’-ass n-gga
better check your temp
don’t act no fool, whole gang got tools, lil’-ass n-gga
with your ho ass
we ain’t givin’ n-gga no pass
send some sh-t real quick at your slow ass, hmm
get to shootin’ at you soon as you go past, mmm
[verse 4: sancho saucy]
got gucci, got fendi, got drip on
big d-ck for your b-tch just to sit on
make her sell p-ssy off the flip-phone
then i put forty-point diamonds in my earlobe
drippin’ sauce, these lil’ pico
all in miami on a louis v speedboat
jumped in the water, found nemo
reeled up a b-tch, got paper like kinko
a n-gga sell p-ssy, not kilo
take a n-gga ass out the game, tim tebow
shaq and he drive big diesel
sanch’ shoot a n-gga like a free throw
sanch’ shoot a n-gga like b-roll
p-ssy-ass n-gga, you is just an actor
sanch’ big bird, i’m a pterodactyl
b-tch call my phone, i don’t never answer
i’m a real pimp, i am not a trapper
sancho slang iron, that’s a known factor
heard word ’round town he a dome cracker
disrespect him, then you won’t make it home after
bullets hit hard like a linebacker
think somethin’ sweet ’til them b-tches start flyin’ at you
poppin’ sh-t off like a firecracker
big sancho break a b-tch down like a chiropractor

- sauce twinz

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