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Hollywood Stel

3:29

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This Hollywood Stel
Shit, got albums for free
And got albums for sale, ya
VBS on neck and wrist man I'm looking fly
Strap behind my Gucci thirty-eight by twenty-nines
And two dicks got these shits looking hella tight
I pop tags in morning, I pop the bands at night
VBS on neck and wrist man I'm looking fly
Strap behind my Gucci thirty-eight by twenty-nines
And two dicks got these shits looking hella tight
I pop tags in morning, you pop bands at night
Two bad yellow bones double stuffed like Oreos
Sip mead like a king on my motha-fucking throne
I ain’t respond if a message green from her phone
That color ain’t match nothing in my wardrobe
Medusa head, yellow bathrobe
Royalty checks out of a fresh licked envelope
Use a couple crackheads as your telescope
On the low your ex hoe's asking me for my horoscope
It took me one year to be self made
I could barley write hooks felt this shit like yesterday
I sit back lay down three tracks in a work day
You still struggle playing covers that shit don’t get you paid
Ain’t play no shows solo still rocking with the best
I’m a real artist you a stage band for my sets
No stream service Facebook but take a guess
Look who got an artist wristband to South by South-West
VBS on neck and wrist man I'm looking fly
Strap behind my Gucci thirty-eight by twenty-nines
And two dicks got these shits looking hella tight
I pop tags in morning, and pop bands at night
VBS on neck and wrist man I'm looking fly
Strap behind my Gucci thirty-eight by twenty-nines
And two dicks got these shits looking hella tight
I pop tags in morning, and pop bands at night
Done dealt with so many jokers I'm a dark night
All the way back when Bhad Bhabie was fucking white
Cultural appropriation say I do the same
But I ain’t playing like I’m something that I fucking ain’t
And take them two plastic figures learn to be gangsta
This shit you coming at me with is nothing but banter
What ever y’all do I can do it way better
I’m grown from the streets and y’all grown from some planters
Stay mad, y’all can keep them autographs
And y’all can tell me you got love but you ain’t get none back
And y’all can shit on my name y’all can shit on my fame
Fact the matter is Hollywood shit on ya'll's game
That’s why I’m spitting slow for yo comprehension
On the DL won’t name any names to mention
Ain’t scared of weapons or heading to the heavens
Cause y’all under the impression that I had malintentions
VBS on neck and wrist man I'm looking fly
Strap behind my Gucci thirty-eight by twenty-nines
And two dicks got these shit looking hella tight
I pop tags in morning, and pop bands at night
VBS on neck and wrist man I'm looking fly
Strap behind my Gucci thirty-eight by twenty-nines
And two dicks got these shit looking hella tight
I pop tags in morning, and pop bands at night

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