Duffle - Lud Foe: Şarkı Sözleri, Müzik Videoları ve Konserler

Duffle

4.935

Hip-Hop/Rap

Duffle adlı parça albümünün bir parçası olarak YSN Records, Inc. / EMPIRE tarafından 1 Ocak 2017 tarihinde yayınlandıNo Hooks II

Şarkı Bilgileri

AlbümNo Hooks II

Çıkış Tarihi1 Ocak 2017

FirmaYSN Records, Inc. / EMPIRE

Melodiklik

Akustiklik

Valence

Dans Edilebilirlik

Enerji

BPM96

GENEL BAKIŞ

ŞARKI SÖZLERI

Krediler

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Lud Foe

Vocals

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Willie James Akins Jr.

Willie James Akins Jr.

Songwriter

Şarkı sözleri

[Verse 1]

(Knock your ****'s dick in the dirt)

(Lambo's, 'Raris, all that shit)

(McLarens, Bentleys, Rolls Royce, all that shit)

(And I'm left writin' my shit when I'm high on pills)

(That shit broke off)

[Verse 2]

She suck my dick wit' her eyes closed, like she blindfold

L-Laffy Tatty, VVS's look like rainbows

**** wear the same clothes, bitch, I changed those

Fifty-thousand engine on a thousand, fuck a Range Rover

This a shout out to my plug, send me bricks on a banana boat

Shout out to your ho, kiss my shit with no camel toe

Designer for my fashion, I look fly, but I ain't matchin', though

Smokin' gas at the opp pack, come and match it, ho

You don't duck, then you fucked, off wit' your fuckin' head

She ain't suckin' dick, then might off wit' her fuckin' head

Tell the waiter, "Bring me some cheese wit' a side of bread"

I ran up my check like my Ben Frank come early

Lambo' and Ferrari, though, it's a spiderweb

You think you a shooter? Don't get killed like cornbread

Balmain filled with blue cheese 'cause I'm born fed

White bitch called, wanna hit, gimme noodle heads

[Verse 3]

Gucci shoe on my feet, bitch, you got on Pro-Keds

We shoot to kill, bitch, we aim at foreheads

Pilot in my trap house, I ain't had no bed

Rap beef, meet me in the skreets, we gon' bump heads

Stomp you in some Christian Loub's, leave you with a red head

**** sleep on me, but I'm on top like a bunk bed

Put your mouth to use, suck it loose like it's super-head

Chopper number two, don't get filled wit' a bunch of lead

I give foenem that green light

Don't be, don't be surprised if somebody die tonight

If I want a ****, I might kill 'em by myself

Sneak-dissin' me, you dead, boy, that's bad for your health

Never shoot for a **** who won't shoot for hisself

First 48, get in that room and tell on yourself

Unlimited Gucci shoes, stack 'em tall on that shelf

Bitch, you're doin' too much, get a flood on yourself

[Verse 4]

I'm a rich ****, bitch, I take care of myself

D-d-d-do it by my lonely, I know I won't tell on myself

Gun on my belt, swimmin' in some pussy, Michael Phelps

Better call for help if you don't wanna feel what they felt

Bullets make you melt, better play the cards you was dealt

I get that money and I spend that shit real fast

I'm tryna nut, so I fucked that bitch real fast

A bitch thick as hell, she ain't got no real ass

A hunnid racks in the stash, and it's real cash

I'm seein' dead bodies, I just had a back-flash

Black glove, black fit wit' the black mask

Big, black .45 for your black ass

We heard you dissin' in 'em shows wit' your wack ass

I make her roll her own weed, bitch, I don't pass

I'm on my way to get that cheese, I'm a rufflehead

Don't make me drop a bag on your dome, I'm a duffle head

Written by: Willie James Akins Jr.

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