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letra de truffle butter (remix) - sdvm

[verse 1]
b-tch, i’m no beginner, d-ck her down soon as i get her
eat a ho for breakfast, lunch, and then for dinner
i keep one ho for the summer and the other’s for the winter
so even in cold days, i’m living a born sinner
a go-getter, hot boy with a cold inner
charlie sheen in my genes, i’m living a born winner
i make more every hour than i ever could have spend
i take 3 rappers, turn ’em to two and a half men
so now what to do with these two?
they just diss and beef, i can make a beef stew
axe drop the needle, they can write your -ss a review
i’m not the only one to see your act is see through
ooh, my buzz is getting h-ll hot
lyrical rocket punches, the bell ring cause they bell rocked
i earned my stripes in the game like sh-ll tops
my package so big, it dont fit in yo’ mailbox
not even close, the most, freshest on each coast
no east coast, but them ladies, i’ll eat those
murder every beat, caucasian king los
you don’t know i’m the greatest, well, b-tch, you finna know

[hook]
you know
what rapper runs the game
i saw, conquer, and came
establishe my own name
i’ll see you in ten years, up in the hall of fame
from this moment on, my life will never be the same
you know
that i’m bound to make it big
when they pr-nounce me dead
y’all gon’ remember what i did
boys sleeping on the boy gon’ be scratching on they head
and the radio will play my big hits
you know that

[verse 2]
no need to mention, i know that i’m perfection
one double entendre coming to ya in third dimension
you rappers torn up, no sh-t we are short of
so your career has the length as the act of your love
on my fourth cup, leaning like a mothaf-cker
i flip milfs over, i really mean a mothaf-cker
wow…guess the white kid on top, huh?
hold your feet to the flames and imma drop ya
i don’t wear grills, but d-mnit, i roast rappers
imma chef and a k!ller, so i face ghost rappers
i won’t say names, but i’m talking those rappers
the ‘i don’t really own all the fake sh-t that i boast’ rappers
yeah, i guess i’m kinda guilty
run laps ’round these rappers, but the skintone be all milky
spit smooth, spit silky, while i p-ss around the sticky
high on that dutch sh-t, we ain’t blowing on that filthy
them dirty pockets though, you boys on them poppy songs
label pull your strings, you’re just the puppet show
wow

[hook]

[verse 3]
uhh, yeah, i’m just thinking out loud
chances are that i’m one of the realest rappers around
mvds, real names, no gimmicks
me versus the world, we’re lining up for a scrimmage
uhh, enter the neutral zone
suck a d-ck or get swerved, i want a useful ho
on pharmaceutical, b-tch, you better roll one
i hit and quit it, f-ck the p-ssy, keep my coat on
okay, i got some problems, tell me who is the hottest
you can shake your head, boy, but listen up: you not it
fat pockets, sh-t be looking like wallace
but it’s no biggie, i’m carrying multiple wallets
like hydraulics, i see you’re streaming my music
don’t be shy, call me out and say it’s good sh-t
if you don’t f-ck with me, that’s cool as well, go mute it
but this b-tch gon’ turn into the olympics up in munich
i mean a m-ssacre, k!ll the driver and the p-ssengers
verbally, i’m murdering, i’ll even shoot the messenger
turn their rag red, they’ll be looking like a matador
you know i’m the hardest from jakarta to el salvador

[hook]

- sdvm

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