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letra de bizarre - stanwill

[intro: krispylife kidd]
keep my mouth closed, i don’t f-ck with feds
kripsylife, n-gga

[verse 1: krispylife kidd]
me and [?] was in la, we was busting heads
get a knife [?] across his cheek, now he a [?] head
i kept my mouth closed like i don’t f-ck with feds
i did some bullsh-t, cut my hair like i don’t f-ck with dreads
that’s why i got the braids now
i hit this b-tch off my furniture, d-mn, me and lil’ baby got the same couch
i’m in a two-story with two pools, we ain’t got the same house
you was the man in high school but you a lame now
it’s been a wrap for other n-ggas since i came out
yo mama should’ve swallowed you when you came out
the chop make a beat against some ribs, you in pain now

[verse 2: stanwill]
i’m about to box you in, kidd, i ain’t gon’ lie, man
huh, think i need a diaper, my amiris, they bе full of sh-t
c-cky as the f-ck but my b-tch say i’m full of it
lil’ lever turn thе sports mode when i pull on it
t-double h-l, i’m with iur
yo whole gang could f-cking skydive, they ain’t fly as ours
chunky-ass shoes, skinny jeans, i live life bizarre
if we catch him out, off his top, he ain’t write a bar
i think yo b-tch wanna be with us ’cause we the littiest
dog sh-t, big sh-tters ’round me, we the sh-ttiest
i think
i’m a lil’ man, tryna fight? i’ma bl!cky it
up sh-t, we can talk sh-t, you can’t humble us
sixty hanging out the bop stick like a shuttle bus
it’s dior, balenciaga, yeezy if i double dutch
really in the field, you set a play, you get your huddle bust
[verse 3: kripsylife kidd]
they say it’s cold in these streets, you better bundle up
when i shoot heat for the beef, he got [?] up
i’m out here tripping, not giving no f-ck
you think stanwill gon’ fight? boy, you dumb f-ck
i mean, you dumb as f-ck
pop a n-gga at a wedding, he done fell into the punch
only reason i did it is ’cause he was ’bout to clutch
i don’t even f-ck with nick cannon but i brought the drum
smoked that n-gga like a ‘wood, i got a fonto stuffed
d-mn, i mean, i got a fonto tucked
them ain’t yo buffs, boy, them b-tches big as f-ck
them b-tches just might be a [?] them b-tches fake as f-ck

[verse 4: stanwill]
let the boys pursue, i’m off-road ’cause i’m trailhawking
hopping on our wave? we’ll knock the f-cking sails off him
the opps could never take me out, boy, y’all can’t even spell “coffin”
could never chase a b-tch ’cause lately i been chasing mail often
funny i’m with kidd, i got grown man pape on me
man, this b-tch so f-cking bougie, think she hate coney
bro done seen so many f-cking keys, he could be beethoven
we just got the drop, start the shoot or we gon’ lay on it
wouldn’t even tuck a f-cking shirt, boy, my chain hang
all this sh-t around, sh-ttyboyz, yeah, that’s gang gang
check the apple watch, think it’s time to the plain jane
chop got three hundred f-cking shots, yeah, bang-bang
[outro: stanwill]
huh, yeah

- stanwill

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