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