a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de big show - stanwill

lyrics from snippet

[intro]
yeah, huh
what up, gavin?
haha
yeah, all my, yeah

[verse]
all my n-ggas pourin’ juice in they coffee cups
got it on my own, ain’t n0body ever bossed me up
chains water, i hit hutch, tell my baby, “boss me up”
keep a weapon on me, let him reach, been done chalked him up
huh, yeah, okay, all my b-tches like b-tches just as much as me
thinkin’ i’ma wrestle, you gon’ tussle with the beam
i be card crackin’, unky jugglin’ the fiends
mike amiri stuffed, she tryna suck me through the jeans
yeah, be done bought a b-tch an xbox, i don’t play with hoes
triple-f-ckin’-s now, i used to have asics on
anywhere you see me, gotta know my bl!ck came along
you like hugh hefner with your gang, boy, you hang with hoes
yeah, all my opps be mad as h-ll, b-tches f-ckin’ glad as h-ll
me and gang in neiman marcus trippin’, b-tch, we grabbin’ sh-lls
on his block, if he don’t duck that taco, he gon’ grab a sh-ll
scoop the dub up out a pnc, the opps be grabbin’ l’s
goose coat, chrome heart hoodie, it’s a warm winter
diors, christian, funny i’m a natural born sinner
crab legs, calamari steak, you can’t afford dinner
f-ck a scat, 2023, b-tch, i’m a porsche spinner
bought a mower for the snakes, i ain’t worried ’bout no longs
they don’t even bite, dummy, i ain’t worried ’bout your dogs
i got fifty on me, f-ck it, might leave thirty in the mall
be done beat your buddy up, because we heard he be with y’all
spit the glocky out the mink, i’m lookin’ like an alpaca
catch him in that field and run him down, i bet we have backup
i don’t think my opps can run it up, go throw a calf at him
bein’ broke a joke for real, i see the opps and laugh at ’em
rushin’ to the pape’, b-tch, i’m lookin’ like a soviet
quick to tell a b-tch, “get off my d-ck if you ain’t blowin’ it”
you can’t put that p-ssy on me less you let my bro in it
i’m the definition of a g.o.a.t., the b-tches knowin’ it
palm angel joggy in a demon, b-tch, i’m ass backwards
at the habor house, the waiter know me as the crab cracker
how you want a bad b-tch but you can’t throw a bag at her?
if you up on bro, you better blow it, he a mag jacker
push-start the whip and skrrt off, andale
get the lo’ and pull up with my migos, get his casa sprayed
gang boxed the booth with turtle pie, b-tch, i can’t concentrate
he ain’t fifty-five, but in his pop, unky droppin’ eights
sbdsm, i promise they can’t f-ck with us
we gon’ show you who got bounce for real, you say it’s up with us
give a f-ck what you sayin’ if we can’t go buck for buck
i’m in the strip drunk, tossin’ more than you and touchin’ b-tts
let a n-gga touch my babies, it’s gon’ be a casualty
this b-tch want my all, i told her she can’t even get half of me
let us get the lo’ on that one opp, we spinnin’ actively
christian loubies spikey than a b-tch like how a cactus be
whippin’ 2022s off the lot
ain’t no f-ckin’ handyman but it’s a tool in his box
drop whatever, bro a fool with his pops
better not try it, swear dorian a fool with the glock
beefin’ with the gang is somethin’ i can’t recommend
thinkin’, “should i slide with the glocky or the f&n?”
i can really put this b-tch down and go and test his chin
like school all over, in my closet, i see f’s again
yes, yes, that’s the fendi wear
pockets lookin’ like the big show, lot of benjies there
you won’t see me in the club ‘less the bl!ckie there
rock a lot of chrome for my heart ’cause it’s empty there
[outro]
no cap, though
sh-tty…

- stanwill

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS