letra de militant - stanwill
[intro]
(yeah, real sh-ttyboyz sh-t, she gon’ f-ck ’cause the sh-ttyboyz lit) haha
yeah
okay (b-tch)
(gian carlo made the flip)
[verse]
they don’t wanna beef with us because we militant
suck it like a demon but she play it like she innocent (like she, what?)
sbdsm, b-tch, we been this sh-t
i don’t love you, baby, i just wanna split your benefits
i’ll throw some shots at his casa with my amigos
i’ll leave a b-tch where i met her, i don’t need hoes
i’ll break the money counter, blue, pink, and green pros
caught him dolo and blew the friends off his vlone
i’ll treat your baby likе i’m brian, she ain’t stewie, though (nah)
you don’t see no squarеs ’round me ‘less i throw some louis on
chop with the attachments, i can turn my call of duty on
my b-tch trippin’ ’cause my dm full of big old booty hoes
birkin or mcdonald’s, baby, show me what your head worth
tom holand, only time he tough is when he web surf
i don’t post the scams anymore ’cause i know feds lurk
i can run it up sittin’ down, f-ck some leg work
in the field, if you got that sack, we gon’ tackle that
shop until i drop, think your baby might collapse in saks
anywhere we catch him at, we attack and jack
she gon’ let me f-ck ’cause i’m in the function flashin’ racks
i like all my hoes’ snacks, you buy all your hoes snacks
went ot with pros and dz’s, you know we brought phones back
think i got the code cracked, solo full of cognac
federalies catch your baby up, i don’t know jack, haha
nah, nah, i don’t know a thing
post the pictures with them lil’ bl!ckies, you won’t blow a thing
b-tch, i ain’t on mars in this rover when i float the range
i get in the booth and talk my sh-t, b-tch, i ain’t wrote a thing
i ain’t wrote sh-t, she gon’ eat the whole d-ck
shootin’ down that way, it ain’t no vacay, it’s a road trip
they gon’ think i’m firefighting how i slide with pole quick
i be thinkin’ ’bout some pape’, i ain’t thinkin ’bout my old b-tch
n-gga, f-ck the opposite, f-ck about no consequence
turn this b-tch to gotham city how my n-ggas robbin’ sh-t
b-tch ain’t got no common sense, f-ck, then i lobbed the b-tch
flyin’ past with the amg like a rocketship
[outro]
b-tch, yeah
(sh-ttyboyz, dog sh-t militia, that’s on every song)
(yeah, b-tch)
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