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letra de flapjack - wallabe

[intro]
ay
ay (wallabe, whatchu know about it)

[chorus]
no style, no fits
no ice on his wrist
no play, no kicks
no chain, no whip
every time he wanna drop, it gon’ be a f-cking miss
every time he wanna talk, it’s like he don’t even exist
you wanna take it from the back
steady doing track
always ending dead last
getting left in the past
take cadeezy in the ass, you tell that b-tch go faster
broke p-ssy and we call his b-tch ass flapjack

[verse 1]
lorealest ain’t sh-t lil b-tch, he pathetic
and his beats are f-cking ass, it’s like he finds them off of reddit
tell that p-ssy, “tone down,” ’cause now he in my f-cking presence
come out looking for some beef so he gon’ motherf-cking get it
i got h-lla loyal friends and
you surrounded by some b-tches
here’s a little f-cking lesson
maybe mind your f-cking business
thought we’d end our little session
but you wanna keep on b-tchin’
thought you learned to quit the testing
but you pushed the f-cking limits
act like you’re better then me
like you got leverage on me
only thing you proving to your friends is that you average, homie
now, i start to think that you on motherf-cking acid, homie
now, i start to think you got an extra f-cking chromie, homie (yeah, yeah)
i don’t need an angel, i’ll still introduce you to the reaper
think i’m mad you’re dating m.r., b-tch, you couldn’t even keep her
how you say you took my girl, b-tch, i was the one to leave her
be a f-cking p-ssy, just for her to leave you on delivered, b-tch
i don’t need your validation
when your brain is on vacation
if you were really thinking straight you woulda stayed out of my lane b-tch
talkin sh-t, wanna get motherf-cking flamed b-tch
f-ck with wallabe again, you gotta be insane b-tch
[chorus]
no style, no fits
no ice on his wrist
no play, no kicks
no chain, no whip
every time he wanna drop, it gon’ be a f-cking miss
every time he wanna talk, it’s like he don’t even exist
you wanna take it from the back
steady doing track
always ending dead last
getting left in the past
take cadeezy in the ass, you tell that b-tch go faster
broke p-ssy and we call his b-tch ass flapjack

[verse 2]
it’s over lil b-tch, now you can go and have your pity party
acting like a kid, man i ain’t going to no diddy party
cooking up a hit, i k!ll a b-tch no i ain’t leave a body
writing notes, i’m sending letters, tell his mama i ain’t sorry
“i’m a racist motherf-cker and my name is flapjack
stay away from all my friends or imma call my f-cking dad”
unrelated to the b-tches, unrelated to the racks
if its a race then imma win it, imma put him on his ass

- wallabe

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