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letra de rhombus. - [z6]jimmy.

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senor b-tt cream
back with the dream team
yeah, uh-huh
throw that ass in a rhombus, not a diamond

b-tch did what i done said, i ain’t no simon
n—a, i done got no watch, i put the time in
n—a, all y’all n—-s fake, movin’ on slimy
ugly ass n—a lookin’ muddy as h-ll

man, your boots ain’t no doc martens, they done fake as h-ll
rick owens on your feet, gon’ get robbed tonight
i look like robin bigg, i’m finna skate, all right
boy, i’m finna get a f-ckin’ skater on it

feel like cousin skeeter got the potty, uh-huh
all y’all n—-s actin’ like you bout it homie
pour the mop, i feel like i be a janitor, uh-huh
w-low, so on your head, that sh-t red now

red dye, that thing look like red dye
n—a, welcome to my ted talk
shе don’t even like to talk, shе just go gulp, gulp
throw that ass in the square, n—a

rollin’ for your sweet like a pear, n—a
and i’d rather eat a apple p-ssy, n—a
i’ve been runnin’ through that motherf-ckin’, uh
little package, n—a
drunk sd h-ll inside the club
man, get away from me, you fat as h-ll
n—a, you know i’ve been a whiskey n—a well
drop a coin inside your body, n—a, now it’s show and tell

grab that n—a like teddy bear
claw machine that n—a for like 25 cents
ain’t gotta put a hit on you for 10k
i come to your block and i’m in like 10 graves

eastside boy, you’re r-t-rded as h-ll
sh-t, i don’t even know how to spell
spectacular spider-man when i slang my d-ck
man, that b-tch so thick, i’m like, who is this

y’all b-tch like listenin’ to type o
n—a, stop talkin’, you writin’ typos
n—a, you ain’t got sh-t, though
all i gotta do is write a survival

die, throw that ass in a rhyme, b-tch
n—a, when i rap, that sh-t is science
start without that talk, you be lyin
talk about you proud, you ain’t even simple, n—a

i ain’t even heard of n—-s that be talkin’, n—a
little-ass kid look like shirley temple, n—a
we gon’ pop it, mama, like a pimple, n—a
we ain’t gon’ shoot her, we just gon’ run a train on her
n—a, i’ll put that motherf-ckin’ stank on her
like lil wayne in 2005, n—a, rain on her
fat joe can’t run that n—a down
or he skinny now, i done forgot, i don’t give a f-ck

cd ran to his car, they took some pictures, huh
i hope i don’t end up like diddy, i ain’t got no allegations, cuz
y’all act like i got sh-t, man, and i ain’t even talkin’ about
throw that ass in a rhombus

n—a, when i write, that sh-t is science
at two years old, ain’t need no trikey
was ridin’ on two wheels, no handlebars, you like me
that old b-tch done liked me

you like to tell that beef, it’s highly unlikely
honestly, i don’t like you, you know that my squad, n—a
i’ll have grundy beat you up in the parking lot
slide reels on your face, n—a, pull up, n—a

we gon’ turn your ass into a baby nape, n—a
i know you like wearin’ all that design
i know you bought that sh-t from the thrift store, n—a
stop with all that lyin’, huh

man, my trap smell like chloroform
walk into that b-tch, y’all n—a, he stuffin’ for him
we on that n—a now, he dead or something
we don’t feel that n—a, with some lead or some

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