Lyrics

Yeah You lil' itty-bitty bitch, haha Yeah, nigga And suck my dick, nigga Ayy, I know y'all hoes want me in jail but I'ma stunt 'cause I'm a baller I damn near gave my heart to that bitch, still don't make time to call her I stopped beefin' with the opps, grah-tah, grah-tah-tah I'm all off in lil' mama ear tryna make her give me that box, ha Thought she was committed but she was fuckin' off of my partners She reached back put them paws all on my balls and I ain't gon' stop her Hoe, I know when you top it off you finna swallow-allow-allow I come outside lookin' better than a bad bitch A bad bitch prolly can't even holler Ayy, I hahaha-hide your bitch to the bank Nah, bitch, I done hahaha-hide your bitch to the bank I'm the type to take a nigga whole bitch and I'on't give a fuck what he say I'm the type to disrespect a nigga whole set, give a fuck what he bang I know that y'all bitches want me in jail but I'm gon' keep stuntin' All this pavé in my diamonds sick, call me 3 Shyne Back in school, them teachers called me fool, said I wouldn't be nothin' I know that it hurt they soul whenever they see me stuntin' Came back to my high school in Lambos and Jags (Jags) Bitch, you was in class, I was out there chasin' bags She done broke my heart but she can't do that shit again (uh-uh) Bitch, I'm in my trap, boomin' like 2010 I still feel like I'm OJ da Juiceman, I make the trap ayy This here for my trappers sellin' work from 'round the way You don't like my price? Well, look I don't know what to say, uh Trap house boomin' 25, ayy, bitch, you know I feel like OJ da Juiceman, I make the trap, ayy This here for my trappers sellin' work from 'round the way You don't like my price? Well, look I don't know what to say, uh Trap house boomin' 25, ayy, bitch, you know I feel like Yeah, bitch, I feel like Yak, in this splat with a big old Mac, yeah And the attire all back, yeah, only Sniper, that's facts, yeah Until they let my papers, I'm just payin' to get you wacked It ain't nothing to get you Peter Row'd, got Petho flippin' sacks I could always go back to the trap I ever get tired of the rap They know I hit that slab and I put vitamins in the crack, yeah And I'm poppin' fraud, look like Mariah in the lab Look like Dexter with this desktop how I just got me a Jag, uh I was on the mollies on a private jet just playin', uh Baking soda, Pyrex, hit the projects when I land, uh I like Glocks, FNs, yah I like pots and pans, yah The dope won't come back 10, uh, baby girl, hold my hand, uh I know you niggas feelin' like you safe with me in prison, ain't it But three bodies dropped behind the fence and steady killin', ain't it Yeah, six bodies dropped and I caught me one on my own mission, ain't it Yeah, I shot a few opps, I popped a few tops, but I ain't finished, ain't it Pew, bam, bam bam, bam, bam bam bam, bam, uh Dope sold, money fold, I want a scroll I ain't want no deals, uh Glock cock back, no safety, I caught lots of cases (uh) Pullin' up, drop top Wraiths I still feel like I'm OJ da Juiceman, I make the trap ayy This here for my trappers sellin' work from 'round the way You don't like my price? Well, look I don't know what to say, uh Trap house boomin' 25, ayy, bitch, you know I feel like OJ da Juiceman, I make the trap ayy This here for my trappers sellin' work from 'round the way You don't like my price? Well, look I don't know what to say, uh Trap house boomin' 25, ayy, bitch, you know I feel like
Writer(s): Daystar Peterson, Bill Kapri Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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