Lyrics:
on the game
I suppose what you're spittin' is flames, cowards
Knew your crew was vaginal, I could smell the dooch powder
Summer's Eve, I drop degrees chill
Bus-a-bus, I put it down and this I get busy
(Excuse me bus-a-bus)
Full control of the city, if you aint know
By the way, the name is Puff
It aint my
Top down, she got flew'd out (whoa)
On the back seat with the extendo (yeah)
Smokin' indoor with my jewels out (yeah)
One-twenty, I blew right by
by lil peep
Rest In Peace I do plea
This setting has us feeling something
Warm weather in July
Dopamine and vaseline
395 on my way to the water
Born
a little peak into the life of Transparent-C
This is my life on display for you to see
Twenty-nineteen was the year
When I didn't have a residence
A hotel
throw up your hands and drop your mic
'Cause I'll go third, and he'll go fourth
By the fifth you're dissed cause you lost
Six is your beat down,
poverty was real
We got excited just to window shop
I was you before you nigga
Back when Nintendo drop bare knuckle brawls
My daddy was beatin' niggas
Up
Even my pronouns know i'm him
These niggas dissing
But they capping out they top just like the brim
And you can tell just by the drip like Michael
the funds at
The hotel on me
The room service on me
The moment you wake up I'll prolly be gone
But you gotta leave by Three
The way my name ring
You would've
the rest
Where ya been
I’m in it to win
Heat cocked back
With a devilish grin
And I swear by the hair on my chin
We gone win
Stay ready to put in
to do
Man drop that
And party it up for Christ
VERSE
Now stop (What, what, what)
Hold up a minute (Ok, o-o-o-ok)
Come on and grab my hand
Come
the play right for I drop it off
Before that sitting same place I be stalking y'all
Sauced up that's hibachi
Yeen getting money that ain't really my problem
on the clock
Bitch I'm serving the block
Trill Klinton:
Yeah they say it's a drought
But a nigga can't drop the rock
Samm Sosa:
Migo my nigga no doubt
He by
for this
I swear I get it off the love
Louisiana nigga you can tell
By my mothafuckin' grammar
I swear I got 3 hoes with
Me just like I'm Santa
These
the glock nineteen brrrrrrrrr yeah
Pick ya mans up (pick ya mans up)
Pick up ya mans we got him taking out for some bands
Dirty my play style
They be asking
at the Marriott damn I left my Xbox
Livin outta suitcase ridin round in rentals
Hotel vibin tell Ru loop the instrumental
5 days I'm only here for 5 days
I'm in
selling dope yeah
Dancing in the spot tryna' drop some
Only tryna' hit it if you got some
I don't like the way she getting by
When she moody always end up
been on a mission like my name Tom Cruise
Light flex with my chain nineteen hundred times two
Pull up pick the work up like I'm in a drive-thru
Light
Don't call me with fake shit- hella makeshift, you just clogging my line
You wanna take credit for all of my hard work at the drop of a dime
Well this is
xtra-large
Let 'em have it
Went out the house I think it was a Sunday
Nigga was runnin' with drop top drop havin' a fun-day
Kickin' it with my niggas
Even chickens want to cluck outside
And mami can't stop eyein'
And when I said my rims was only nineteens, she said "stop lyin'!"
Say what, say
chickens want to cluck outside
(Timbaland: Yo' Fab, it must be the truck outside)
And mami can't stop eyein
And when I said my rims was only nineteens
diver?, socializer, I've been rockin'
these motherfuckin' microphones since nineteen seventy-niner,
and by the time that this little nappy head nigga retire
comes over for that thing sometimes
I drop it off sometimes you know she got that prime
Missed my flight to boston so I'm stuck in your city
I feel you
Discuss these my hotel deb by drop nineteens Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In