Poetry - Stanwill Lyrics
By: Admin | Artist: S stanwill | Published: 2024-23-09T07:17:05:00+07:00
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Silahkan disimak Poetry - Stanwill Lyrics Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.poetry lyrics
[intro]
like, huh, hold on, huh
[verse]
let the lab chain swing, but this b*tch a trophy
we the mo’f*cking reason apple got a sh*t emoji
bae rock christian dior, so my b*tch is holy
looking like december 25th, all these giffies on me
think you finna play with my pape’? you would die for that
bro’ll wet your f*cking tee up like a laundromat
i ain’t talking ’bout no seat belt, but i ride with straps
lemon cherry stuffed in the ‘wood, b*tch, kinda smack
feel like tropicana, got the juice off of punching sh*t
funny i got four burners on me and a oven mitt
we ain’t even beefing, but he mad i humped his b*tch
she don’t ask what i’m doing, b*tch know i’m thumbing strips
b*tch thinking it’s a sp*cecraft, it’s a amg
empty ass soul, ain’t no love or no hate in me
off*white x on my shirt, this a racist tee
she wanna give her heart, made your b*tch give her face to me
trackhawks, h*llcats, you ain’t racing me
if it’s up, then my baby sending sh*t to the gates with me
i be d*gg*ng n*gga’s hoes, ain’t no taming me
fan stopped me in the mall, my b*tch saying, “it’s the fame for me”
if i get a mill’ today, b*tch, me and gang breaking even
i should bring a f*cking bed in that b*tch, i’d stay in neiman’s
lil’ bro’ll pop your ass just because he can’t tame his demons
i just hit the booth and sh*t talk, you would think my aim is speaking
bro sip expensive on his wock’ in the simply sh*t
four pockets full, but my heart on some empty sh*t
chill day, still stepping out in some crispy sh*t
i don’t know if she believe me or not, on some ripley sh*t
for me, it’s a giffy trip, unc’ making brickies flip
this some off*white, f*ck i look like in d*ckie drip?
hunnid rounds in this lil’ b*tch, this the mickey stick
with all that lil’ sh*t, no cap, you can miss me, b*tch
if you my dog, you my dog, boy, i got your back
.762’s flip his ass like a acrobat
all that sh*t you be rapping ’bout, put a cap on that
let this ho ever say it’s up, we gon’ act on that
drawing plays up for them bills, feel like belichick
she can be your lil’ b*tch, i’m still getting h*lla neck
balenciaga’s on, boy, that’s 10k in seven steps
tryna throw a fist? that’s gon’ land you in heaven, neph’
yeah, supreme tee with the liver, looking like an organ donor
red bottoms for my b*tch, boy, ain’t no jordan’s on her
three*five after three*five, getting more than stoners
since he playing with his f*cking life, get it short and dome him
pull up on my opps, wave a stick like it’s sorcery
green beams and white gloves, boy, that’s the force in me
you could see a d*mn biscuit, boy, you ain’t horsing me
they say i’m sh*t talking, but to me, this sh*t poetry, whew
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