feat. Big Tings A Gwan
I’ve got L fuck skippin, put these whack rappers spittin
I just like to listen, make the racket like position
I supply them fiends, for that music they be itching
Looking at my bedroom like it was my kitchen
You puffin on some black music, I be so persistent
I could make these hood tunes and I could make yo bitch wet
I may have some issues but I be at my juice up
And I get that different from poking in yo district
I clap heap and go hard
These beats and gold bars
I might think they both talk
Now spread out yo whole cock
Then she ought to go far
And mail out that postcard
No slappin with most off
I’m clappin my own chart
I just need my old star
These boys often roll by
Pit stop, get mind
My mind feel inside
They design my new op
Levi’s that slip wide
True sign, I ain’t lyin
Yea, yo!

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN