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letra de video games - shittyboyz

[verse 1: stanwill]
woozy mood, unky buffed up walking ’round with stick
[?], hit the crib with a thousand bricks
he ain’t sbdsm, i promise he ain’t ’round the clique
big roll, broke a thumb tryna count this sh-t

[verse 2: babytron]
see a red light and run through it like it’s san andreas
so much sh-t in the ksubi jeans, i think my pants in neiman’s (sh-t, f-ck, d-mn)
hundred rounder, i ain’t have to aim it
we gon’ pull up, put you in a suit since your ass debatin’
[verse 3: trdee]
hot as h-ll in my wifebeater, feel like cj
no cap, we turned the tables like a dj
pua ballin’, know you sick you blew that free pape’
uncle’s whip and then he had to take a lean break

[verse 4: stanwill]
[?], christian loub’s on me red and blue
first night, quick to tell a b-tch, “put that hеad to use”
double g’s, lv, i got x’s too
lil’ brodie еlegant, he finna swing the lexus through

[verse 5: babytron]
finna complete the mission (skrrt, skrrt)
buffs on like big smoke, all i see is chicken (whew)
riding ’round in that lowrider, i can’t leave a witness
touchdown in cali’ by the bay, all i see is bridges
we ain’t even finished

[verse 6: trdee]
green on me like i’m repping grove street
do you know you talking to a vet? you can’t coach me
stan came through in the clutch like ginóbili
insulated crocs got me in the bank cozy (yeah)
b-tch, i’m sticked up like cranky kong
or i can tell stan and get his tom brady on (fah, fah, fah, fah)
made his whip stop
sbdsm, you know i cannot clique-hop
[verse 7: babytron]
five hundred blues, that’s a fifty ball
lil’ brodie out here going ape, call him diddy kong
only reason that he got away, i cut the switchy off
see doggy out and had him spooked with the sh-tty draws (whew)

[verse 8: stanwill and babytron]
zoom through, amg with the paper tag
i done broke my neck looking down where the haters at
looking like the migos with this major bag
hit the turtle pie, b-tch thought it was a eighth of crack (sh-t, f-ck, d-mn, )
unky pouring wocky up, you sipping on luigi lines
b-tch gon’ make it disappear, she on houdini time
introduce his face to kanye in these yeezy slides
boy, stop asking ’bout your b-tch, she on my wee-wee, slime

[verse 9: babytron]
waluigi cup, red bottoms, they on mario
dropped the za’ off, now everybody at the party blowed
alaskan king, chilling in it with the carti’s on
she’ll never get a ring, you know i charles barkley hoes

[verse 10: trdee]
big ass chopper, turn a n-gga into king boo
pull up to your barbecue, tryna grill you
somewhere in the hills with a baddie in the rearview (okay)
finna treat her like my money, “let me spread you”
[verse 11: babytron]
pint forty-five hundred but the pop one dollar (man, f-ck that)
pop one dollar but the pint forty-five hundred
walk around, ten credit cards, i don’t like thumbing

[verse 12: trdee]
feel like clank ’cause the b-tch that i’m with is ratchet
no cap, my money really longer than a bracket
before 21, gang been a savage
you ain’t really in the field, you ain’t really active

[verse 13: stanwill and trdee]
big ass chop’ll knock the melon off his neck
palm angels did the sneakers, so it’s seven when i step
think i’m lacking in my nike? it’s a weapon in my tech
acting tough online’ll get you sent to heaven off the web (okay)

[verse 14: trdee]
beat a rap n-gga ass like it’s def jam
i can see through these n-ggas like a cat scan
got sticks like a camper, ain’t no wrestling
i’m always with some money, it’s my best friend
b-tch pulled up badder than a lil’ kid
scored a touchdown, celebrating all on your field (touchdown)
if you try to change the price, then it’s no deal
you can shoot your shot, you gon’ miss it like you o’neal

[verse 15: stanwill]
i’ll turn a ten to a twenty, thirty in the glock
why he got a double cup? ain’t nothing dirty in that pop
b-tch like when i’m blowing pape’, she getting flirty when i shop
fell asleep with a model, woke up early to some wock’
(i’ma keep this sh-t a buck fifty) they can’t f-ck with me
i don’t want no rose gold, i be telling hutch p-ssy
(who the f-ck is that?) i don’t know, let me clutch bl!cky
to the top, if you ain’t dsm, you can’t come with me

[verse 16: babytron]
pockets on fat joe
f-ck wrestling, i’ll pull up tryna tag toes
tryna add up the fit, bet your math wrong
you is not a starter, boy, your stats low
trackhawking, pushing on the pedal with some track’s on
whether it’s bl!cks or the drip, gang can match chrome
bust down bracelet off the watch, got my hands froze
sbdsm ain’t never made a bad song

[outro: babytron]
huh, ayy, sh-ttyboyz
you know what the f-ck going on

- shittyboyz

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