[Verse 1: Yung Miami] Thirty inch lace, so I sat on his face I'm from the Loc's, I could tell you how the top feel Quater mil on a new crib, red bottoms on blue heels Pop bottles like New Years If he tight I'ma rob him, if he sweet I'ma gobble him If he rich, I'll slob him, if he broke, I'ma dodge him No room for broke dudes or flaw niggas He wanna fuck without his rubber on Cuban link, but its color gone, so you know a bitch never wrong You a broke ass fuck nigga, period! And it ain't shit, you can tell me, I ain't hearing it
[Chorus: J.T.] Bitch I want smoke, let's clear the air My bitches on go! And we'll get there Thirty on my bag, that's brick fair Y'all hoes won't last, we gon' snap all year, yeah Bitch I want smoke, let's clear the air My bitches on go! And we'll get there Thirty on my bag, that's brick fair Y'all hoes won't last, we gon' snap all year, yeah
[Verse 2: J.T.] Let's clear the air, ain't shit sweet Can't fuck me, suck me, or touch me, 'less ends meet I been savage, been letting niggas have it Take all a nigga got, and disappear like magic I couldn't tell if he's was Haitian or Jamaican But that nigga paper long, so I had my niggas waiting Took the money on vacation, on an island Venezuela Magaritas with my bitches, living life, Caucasian I give a fuck about no hoe, who fell off But still want smoke, now thats a low blow Yung Miami, that's my doll to, we on a roll City Girls all year, y'all hoes know
[Chorus: J.T.] Bitch I want smoke, let's clear the air My bitches on go! And we'll get there Thirty on my bag, that's brick fair Y'all hoes won't last, we gon' snap all year, yeah Bitch I want smoke, let's clear the air My bitches on go! And we'll get there Thirty on my bag, that's brick fair Y'all hoes won't last, we gon' snap all year, yeahTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
