Songtexte

Buddha bless this beat Bitch Where my motherfucking sack? Why them 20s in the front? Why them 100s in the back? Show me what you got Bring it back for some cash I'm a self made product, gee I look like a bag I'm a fuckin' millionaire, I meant it (Skrrt, skrrt) I'ma put a bitch on Front Street if you don't believe it Ask your motherfucking friends, I'ma do it (Shoot) I'm that nigga with the (Pew) AK, I'ma shoot it (Pew, pew, pew) I got bitches who in love like I'm Cupid (Damn, damn) If a nigga cross me up, on my mother, boy, he stupid, yeah Dead man walking (Let's go) Drop tape posin', Grand Am skrrtin' Bad bitch, big booty, and she twerkin' Ain't no flockin', I'm in Stockholm, why you stalking? Twerkin' off a sidekick like I'm Robin Dick have her moaning 'til the neighbors come a-knockin' Only time a nigga sweat when a nigga joggin' I can't take advice from someone who gotta clock in That's a Fendi, got two Bentleys, white and green One Ferrari, all red like Supreme Yo bitch a meat lover for the team Try to cross me out, do you know what that mean? You a dead man walking Drop tape posin', Grand Am skrrtin' Bad bitch, big booty, and she twerkin' Ain't no flockin', I'm in Stockholm, why you stalking?
Writer(s): Nayvadius Demun Wilburn, Tauheed Epps, Armond Dewayne Kendrick, Tyron Buddah Douglas Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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