Fuck Pusha T and anybody that love him His head up his ass, I’mma have to head-butt him Gut him, Lil Tunechi shit, weak stomach It’s me, LT, like when you heat butter Old pussy in a can, red is the flag Fuck with me wrong I’ll put your head in your hands There’d be blood everywhere, I got bloods everywhere I’mma alien, I hope you ain’t the Prince of Bel Air That’s real nigga talk, these niggas speechless Cut off his arm and leg like I charge for my features Hammer on my side like I work in construction Your bitch hit that head so hard we get concussions Niggas can’t see me, not even a glimpse Too many banana clips, I feel like chimps South Beach bitch and I tan line stupid You could find me on Collins like Bootsy I ain’t on no fuck shit, I be on that Truk Fit Your girl do tongue tricks and you sweeter than one six All I ever see is Ben Franklin face I chase the bank, I don’t bank with Chase You fuckin’ with some niggas that’ll murk y’all Nigga you softer than a motherfuckin’ Nerf ball Bird call, brr, what happened to that boy? He was talkin’ shit, we put a clap into that boy Tunechi!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
