a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de jody on acid - wil$on (usa)

[verse 1: wil$on]
baby been givin’ me google eyes
i been drinkin’, i’m too faded to decide
pimpin’, i’ll put the b-tch to the side
eyes cuttin’ like knives, the suicide
2020, this newer ride
hidin’ a glock, f-ck a cobra kai
i ain’t usin’ the hands, f-ck your foolish pride
get her wetter than hurricanes move a tide
look, i’m a real n-gga to the t
f-ck it, i’m out, think she f-ckin’ me
takin’ the glasses off so i can see
and i peep what you see but you’re creepin’ me
streets windin’ up seperate hills
you f-ckin’ up, just don’t f-ck with wills
b-tch, picture perfect, we takin’ stills
you gon’ love where you at like you mrs. mills

[interlude]
yeah, no, this n-gga named wil$on called me but, i ain’t even have his number saved. that’s hilarious. nah. i probably play a n-gga, you know, tennis. but, this n-gga named scotty, nah, i don’t even know him. but, he light-skinned. you know i f-ck with that

[verse 2: scottie le’jour]
uh, i might just go david blaine on my b-tch
dirt on the side, they display on my b-tch
dirky [?] fade-away on my b-tch
tried to get grips with my hands tied
tried to get deep in, you pan-fried
i had a convo relayin’ my feels
get in the gym, f-ck relationship sk!lls
tiger woods rappin’, no good behind wheels
okay, i was subbin’ like cold cuts
back to the purpose, can’t focus
list of my problems so miniscule
really, i’m petty as charlemagne
b-tches r. kelly in interviews
throwin’ up tantrums inside of this mansion
turnin’ my puddles to swimmin’ pools
tom hanks, b-tch, i’m better off lonely
might [?], come step on your homie
’cause you don’t need friends like models don’t need food
i do not need love, like stevie don’t need views
[interlude: meechy darko]
yeah, yeah
i hate this mic but i’ma do it for my n-ggas, yeah
yeah
yeah

[verse 3: meechy darko]
rappin’ is my hobby, my clout really risin’
my b-tches act sn0bby because i free them diamonds
gucci, valentino, chanel, and dior and all them
i’m nasty, like dress shoes with a track suit
tear that p-ssy to pieces and eat every crumb
young, she love a thug one with bodies on his gun, huh
she’s so fun, live once, but that’s a lie
maybe it ain’t, i don’t know ’cause i’m that high
no lie

[outro: meechy darko]
alright, just leave that

- wilon usa

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS