Lyrics:
fornicate (Like, yeah)
In my gross Ugg boots, in your scene-king suit
Let your white studded belt hit the ground
And my hair stayed teased as I'm on my knees
It's silently seeming that the dust beneath my boots
Is just another taste of you
Another reminder
Of how you made me blue
But I moved
pissed again
Frankfurt‑Boys wear cowboy boots
We all have got eternal youth
I'm sitting on a pair of scales
I watch the world go by
In the emptiness I'm
dorm
By the great divine I'm the chosen one
I spit colorless flame yes the boy is pale lit (pallet)
Punch lines leave ya wig split like a cheerleader
to switch the hue 'cause them LA boys smuggy
But more likely to get hurt by somebody who love me
My lady, she don't trust me (nah), know I'm a sick puppy
I'm rocking Number
(N) ine jeans and they boot cuts
Chop off the head off the coupe
Got a bowl cut (Woo, woo)
You not really havin’ no money
These
mothafucking paper
Boot Camp Clik
Aight you know what I'm saying
Mad niggas want to talk about
That East - West bullshit
But you know it's all bullshit
Smith
Well, my truck's got no radio and no AC Still i'm cruisin' down the streets lookin' country clean
In ratty old boots, Wrangler jeans, and Babe Ruth
gon' be litty
Vintage pieces by the time she hit the city, yeah-ah
Vintage frames, I see nobody fuckin' wit' him
Pretty thug, out the third ward, hit
From a town known as Wheeling, West Virginia
Rode a boy with a six gun in his hand
And his daring life of crime
Made him a legend in his time
chose I
I ain't gonna lie
What I look like turnin' down chocha
Drove by, smokin' lye
Recognize a pimp, open your eyes
Hop in the passenger side
Boys I was born in Texas State,
Many years ago,
I've rode on ev'ry range and plain,
There's no place I don't know
I love to swing the lariat,
We are the mean green machine
We are the mighty green machine
We are the boys from the Linwood Keas
Yeah, Yeah We always winning
Yeah, Yeah We always
(Let's go, Mario)
All my drugs just kicked in
I'm high as a motherfucker, you hear me?
(That boy Cassius)
Sippin' on the Henn'
In the cut like
boots and your fists up
Take me away
Alone in my room
I am pretending
I play the drums for the beach boys
Alone in my room
With my headphones on
Your
but sunsets on the beach
Got some dirt on my boots for these gold teeth
My old boy never saw my goatee
I roll trees for the times I had dreams
'Bout
would would shoot
Prolly shake in they boots
Oh you faking the funk
Smell like I'm sprayed by a skunk
Facing the hate is a must
I am a mutant lil
they ain't never slide
And every n**** be some demons by he's not alone
I know you faking in them songs boy you not alone
The only time you boot up is
in the trenches in my diamonds
Bad bitches linin' up, they want the boy behind 'em
Ugg boots with the trues too, that was young you
Now you want a BBL,
The truth of the whole thing is
Lagos is the Mexico City of Africa
It's run by different cartel, different airport, different OG, different men then
ol' boys getting autographs
In Cincinnati, I know you heard
I got fined for the cuss words
It's true, baby, so so unique
Might slap your man
what l gotta do
So l up my pipe a nigga die tonight, and l'm
Always waiting for the boys in blue.
Biggie boots on my ass now go'n right the
Cellular
my head and my woman by my side
Tail-pipe's poppin', the radio's rockin', "Country boy can survive"
If you got a problem with that, ha, ha, you can
my head and my woman by my side
Tail-pipe's poppin', the radio's rockin', "Country boy can survive"
If you got a problem with that, ha, ha, you can
_(cropped).jpg/229px-Little_Boots_01_26_2018_-3_(25273793597)_(cropped).jpg "Little Boots")
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