Lyrics:
Lavender
She the type want me to lavish her
Want me for the money then I laugh at her
But she don't like to fuck with no amateur
She like to have fun right
If it's really amateur hour
At the comedy club
Why do I got better bars
Then people who do this as a full time job
It's because this shit is my real
Magic City, Club Rolex
Sue's Rendezvous
And all the amateur strippers that's in 'robics classes
Try it out at home, it works baby, it works
I can
skirt fi match di crop top
Mi love how yuh wine up
Fast or slow
If a boxing mi wi tek a low blow
Get high from low
Gal u separate
Amateur From pro
(Bitch)
She say I’m toxic
She think I’m an ass cause I talk shit
Just tryna beat it up like I was boxing
Ain’t really got no option
Damn why she always
different when you boxing yourself in
So the next time you pop they see a jack outta box
Pouring liquor from the pavement with my head to the stars talking
try to clip my wings, I'm making hot clips
Getting drunk in the day, feeling toxic
Boxing anyone thinking that I'm not shit
12 shots in the club, but no
zone
I'm known for handling
Doing damage and wrecking shit
I ain't no amateur
One shot and the drop, I'm gone
Got six more in the chamber
If you want
Yo
Truth had me up against the ropes
And semi-conscious without no boxing skills
Fear of it makes hair on my neck grow like minoxodil
Watchin'
the wrist shine it's so magical
You know them boys got the clubs out of control (Ho!)
Nigga what ya heard, it's Kells and Hov
With the second coming
the wrist shine it's so magical
You know them boys got the clubs out of control (Ho!)
Nigga what ya heard, it's Kells and Hov
With the second coming
illustrating how I do damage
They keep my hands in raps cuz they say they're lethal weapons
For me it's a sparring session for you it's a boxing lesson
I'm
clean Panamera
Amateur Hanna-Barbera characters know they envy
The illest Hennessy Black sipper with loaded semis
You pick of the week, voted-in
London on da track bitch
(London)
Hell yeah, I'm a savage
Pussy wet, fuck a pad, you need some napkins
Hit the club, get some ones, and make it tragic
Yeah (yeah)
(Listen to this track, bitch)
Ha
Like Tommy Lee and Pamela, I'm fuckin' on a camera
More stamina than animals, Gucci is no amateur
Sliding out of these big as cribs that look like palaces.
Cause me and my all of my niggahs is kings at no amateurs. Say!
Don't need no canvas's cause all
Audiomarc please turn it up
Came from the mud yeah
They know wassup yeah
Still in the club yeah
Fuckin it up yeah
Took her to hollywood it was
quiet
Yeah I know this ain't boxing but that's still
Rappers get so quiet,
Rappers get so quiet,
Rappers get so quiet
Rappers get so quiet
Rappers get
Yeah
Look
I remember looking at things I can't afford
I remember hot boxing whips Honda Accord
Now they wanna hop on the wave swim to shore
Do they
Uh, yeah
This is for my motherfucking club heads
You feel me?
Ow
People, gangstas, and pimps and people
Smokin that deeper reefer
Up in
Uh, yeah
This is for my motherfucking club heads
You feel me?
Ow
People, gangstas, and pimps and people
Smokin that deeper reefer
Up in
pulling up hot boxing
And we going all night 'Odeshi'
I'm about to pull up pull up pull up
I'm on my way
Time is quarter past eight
Girl i don't wanna be
Yeah (yeah)
(Listen to this track, bitch)
Ha
Like Tommy Lee and Pamela, I'm fuckin' on a camera
More stamina than animals, Gucci is no amateur
When I get to the club
It's with my homies on my back
When I get to the club
It's with my homies on my back
When I get to the club
It's with my
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