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letra de neverland - stanwill

[intro]
haha, i predicted all my—
haha
duh
i predicted all my—, i’m the weatherman, b-tch (313 mafia)
this b-tch crazy
it was rainin’, but
it was rainin’, but, you know? like
ha

[verse]
i predicted all my sunny days like i’m the weatherman
this b-tch think i love her, she must live in neverland
they must hate me ’cause i’m doin’ sh-t they never can
catch him stealin’ from a list’ll leave him with a severed hand
she gon’ rip me out it ’cause my fit cost seven bands
wouldn’t fight my opposites if i had seven hands
sneakers came from paris with a b-tch i met in france
you won’t catch me tuckin’ diamonds, b-tch, i let ’em dance
all the baddies i done hit should throw me up on zeus
courtesy of hutch, i still be cold inside my goose
what you make a month i probably poured inside my juice
you can check our mris, it ain’t no ho inside my group
i’m with the militia, catch me posted up with soldiers
i dropped out of college, had more paper than my folders
pendants or my b-tches, i don’t even know what’s colder
holy bible or my bank account, don’t know what’s longer
f-ck the human race, b-tch, i’m a loner
all you smell is zotti, zotti, zotti, i’m with stoners
funny how i dog his b-tch but she gon’ eat my b-n-r
schwarzenegger or my cartis, i don’t know what’s stronger
boy, i treat your b-tch just like i own her
glocky in my mike amiri holster
your b-tch want my heart, i’m not a donor
i can only trust a ho as far as i can throw her
pull up, hundred rounder throw his team in the spittal
up around the floor, ain’t no between or no middle
jeans might be blue but i got green in my denim
you can’t lock us out, we got the keys to the system
i don’t pose for pictures, i up cheese when i’m in ’em
got a couple tricks up in my sleeve, let me get ’em
she got messy head, i put my seed in her dental
dog sh-t militia, smell like money, weed, and a kennel, haha
all got our own, we don’t share sh-t
if we pull up striker, we can’t spare sh-t
in the lab like morty, i don’t wear ricks
knock the retina off your optic nerve if you stare, b-tch
is they suckin’ or they f-ckin’? forty ass to hoes
everytime we drop an opp, we pour our ass some fours
goldie glocks, point it where his poridge at and blow
achieved everything i dreamed about, i’m soarin’ past my goals, huh
b-tch, dog sh-t militia

- stanwill

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