Wild West / Digits

Conor McGregor Do you know I'm from the wild wild west uh huh Its the land where people like to puff their chest Fuck a double barrel imma shoot your birdy in her breasts (Bow bow) I'm a crusty white boy from the wild wild west uh huh (Yeehaw) We found us a stallion and no she not Megan I hop in my boots with some spurs and I'm kickin' it (Ohhkay) Bought a six-pack of green monster I'm crushin' it Outlaw with moonshine, legit and not counterfeit yeah (Bitch) Fuck a pack aye I got a bad bitch with a fat nutsack (Alllright) And she swingin' that shit imma pass that aye Side to side while she makin' it clap ohhkay Huh uh, audemars piguet (Cha-ching) Fresh white diamonds on the side of my bezel Yeah the light jump off like a fuckin'... gazelle (Yah) Straight from Texas and I'm rich, WHAT THE HELL? WHAT THE HELL Text me imma leave you high and dry When I'm out at midnight, no noise, cause I'm shy (Shhhh) Got a snub with a fat dick, shoot you in the thighhhhh (Bow bow) My nickname is snub, got my dick on your thigh (Uh huh) On god on god, I'm not on some gay shit But for $20 I might bend on my straight shit (Cap) During quarantine I facetime all my boys shit Kiss'em goodnight (Mwah) (Mwah) night night bitch (Bah) Aye remember Kawai cause that pussy he left for the Clippers Give me a tweet and I'll blast him on twitter I am not mad, I'm a kidder, not nazi like Hitler (Pussy) Just rewind the time, Germans lost in the winter yeah (Scheiser) They lost in the winter Russian vodka, it destroyin' my liver (Chug chug) Mr. Putin is my personal stripper Holy fuck, the heroin is kickin' now White lambo on the track, got digits on the dash Fuck a uber going fast fast fast Then I puff puff pass caussa weed got mass Yours skinny fuckboy check the contrast Eating the kitty for brunch bitch I'm a blood and I'm boolin' no fuck shit Oh she suckin' this dick like a candy cane (Hoe) So I throw her away poof, David Blaine Magician got magic man this shit is tragic Don't ask me for pics hoe get outta the frame I'm stacking my guap, pour some lean in the cup Always first place I'm leaving the club with no trace (Yah yah) Tracin' your body with chalk shit If you on my block then imma pop shit (Booow) Pop Smoke, don't talk shit On my momma she hit that reverse split (On god on god) I'm putting my fist through your face bitch You can run but you ain't got the pace bitch (Nuh uh) If you fall grab a pillow for grace bitch One bullet the scope got a trace rich No I'm not rich, but I got wrist (Wrist) I'll pull you, twist you, and bop it I'm pissed Got a 60 round drum in his tummmmmyyyy (Oooweeeee) Now that boy cryin' out for his mummyyyyy (Ha Ha Ha MOURNTEO)