B In The Front

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06 Mocky

2:38

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Can't tell the difference, these bitches like synonyms
Talkin' the same way to me
Couple of sentences, got her pussy turnin' cinnamon
Wetter it get it get it sweet
Cant do a jeep, need suburbans, too deep when I'm rolling
I fill that with 22 g's
Like I'm outta Sharjah, that side of Sahara
Where buildings be growing out more than the trees
Like I ain't her mister and you not my Misses
So bitch I make sure that rubber staying on
After we fuckin', she wanna' be more
Asked me to sing her a song
Told her to gimme a minute, I pulled out my phone, in a couple seconds I was gone
When I hop out a top, with the B in the front
You congratulate me like Malone
I'm part of the parts that you dont want a part of
Got 12 in the park, in a station they watching
Ya' heart get attacked, that ain't Demi Lovato
If they tryna spark then u know imma bark it
Like you been a passenger, I'm pressin' throttles
I'm on situations security stopping
Ya' bitch in the back, didn't know that she followed
Like dont her gassed, she a 3, not a model
Smokin' Afghani, that shit not gelato
Smoke got me stressin', won't sleep til' tomorrow
They movin' with manuals, I'm movin' auto
I got me a blueprint, a 'B' gonna follow
Like 'Z' got a queen, but for me, need her hollow
A back that can bend and a mouth that can swallow
Brand new whip
She hopped in
Hand on my lap, give me jack like I'm Harlow
I pop in her party, no Tjay or Polo
Yeah popped in this party, these doggies dont like me
Bout' a bitch, lotta' them wanna fight me
I wasn't invited, no need to invite me
I go where I want, don't need back up behind me
Don't tell bro the addy, they might just confine me
Hittin' hard, gown' do more than a coma
Won't f*ck up my life, just gown' f*ck up a comma
I don't got Netflix, no time for some drama
I'll cut to the action if they movin' gaga, bro
F*ck is inside of this spliff that we smoking
My mind on a hunnid, but movin' on slow (Who next in)
Who next in line, try get put in a joint
When you crossin' this line, won't get counted as points
Pussy was tryna' shoot 3's, outta' bounds
You step without lookin', might cost you your joints
Can't tell the difference, these bitches like synonyms
Talkin' the same way to me
Couple of sentences, got her pussy turnin' cinnamon
Wetter it get it get it sweet
Cant do a jeep, need suburbans, too deep when I'm rolling
I fill that with 22
Like I'm outta Sharjah, that side of Sahara
You talkin', the f*ck are you gonna' do
Like I ain't her mister and you not my Misses
So bitch I make sure that rubber stayin'on
After we fuckin', she wanna' be more
Asked me to sing her a song
Told her to gimme a minute, I pulled out my phone, in a couple seconds I was gone
When I hop out a top, with a B in the front
You congratulate me like Malone
(Ahh ah)

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