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letra de poetry - stanwill

poetry lyrics
[intro]
like, huh, hold on, huh

[verse]
let the lab chain swing, but this b-tch a trophy
we the mo’f-cking reason apple got a sh-t emoji
bae rock christian dior, so my b-tch is holy
looking like december 25th, all these giffies on me
think you finna play with my pape’? you would die for that
bro’ll wet your f-cking tee up like a laundromat
i ain’t talking ’bout no seat belt, but i ride with straps
lemon cherry stuffed in the ‘wood, b-tch, kinda smack
feel like tropicana, got the juice off of punching sh-t
funny i got four burners on me and a oven mitt
we ain’t even beefing, but he mad i humped his b-tch
she don’t ask what i’m doing, b-tch know i’m thumbing strips
b-tch thinking it’s a sp-cecraft, it’s a amg
empty ass soul, ain’t no love or no hate in me
off-white x on my shirt, this a racist tee
she wanna give her heart, made your b-tch give her face to me
trackhawks, h-llcats, you ain’t racing me
if it’s up, then my baby sending sh-t to the gates with me
i be d-gg-ng n-gga’s hoes, ain’t no taming me
fan stopped me in the mall, my b-tch saying, “it’s the fame for me”
if i get a mill’ today, b-tch, me and gang breaking even
i should bring a f-cking bed in that b-tch, i’d stay in neiman’s
lil’ bro’ll pop your ass just because he can’t tame his demons
i just hit the booth and sh-t talk, you would think my aim is speaking
bro sip expensive on his wock’ in the simply sh-t
four pockets full, but my heart on some empty sh-t
chill day, still stepping out in some crispy sh-t
i don’t know if she believe me or not, on some ripley sh-t
for me, it’s a giffy trip, unc’ making brickies flip
this some off-white, f-ck i look like in d-ckie drip?
hunnid rounds in this lil’ b-tch, this the mickey stick
with all that lil’ sh-t, no cap, you can miss me, b-tch
if you my dog, you my dog, boy, i got your back
.762’s flip his ass like a acrobat
all that sh-t you be rapping ’bout, put a cap on that
let this ho ever say it’s up, we gon’ act on that
drawing plays up for them bills, feel like belichick
she can be your lil’ b-tch, i’m still getting h-lla neck
balenciaga’s on, boy, that’s 10k in seven steps
tryna throw a fist? that’s gon’ land you in heaven, neph’
yeah, supreme tee with the liver, looking like an organ donor
red bottoms for my b-tch, boy, ain’t no jordan’s on her
three-five after three-five, getting more than stoners
since he playing with his f-cking life, get it short and dome him
pull up on my opps, wave a stick like it’s sorcery
green beams and white gloves, boy, that’s the force in me
you could see a d-mn biscuit, boy, you ain’t horsing me
they say i’m sh-t talking, but to me, this sh-t poetry, whew

- stanwill

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