Lyrics:
bottoms on slim waist
But that ass fat
Girl, how you get them jeans on
Let a ngga get some face time
You ain’t fuckin with them other
Nggas you ain’t wrong
Dreitausend Euro Jeans, ich hab' Racks an (wooh)
Fedex, UPS kommen Packs an (Packs)
Ich hab ein Black Tee an, es ist Chrome Heart (Chrome Heart)
Alle Whips,
When I spit my bars bitch
I feel like Bobby Ross bitch
The way I craft a bar I feel like an artist
I'm on Tony stark shit
The way I leave my mark
said Cheese
Wish we dated cause she a freak
Cerfisticated she like to tease
Pushed me down and grabbed my jeans
She do Acrobatics
Pussy feel like Magic
at home
Boy stop all frontin' you not as real as you say
You remind me of a bridesmaid catching bouquets
Feel like I'm dealing children but I'm not Jean
Eenie meenie
Die Kinder von heute haben es nicht leicht
Coole Jeans, Diesel-Shirts, brandneue Nikes
Ein Ohrring in der Nase, die Haare gestylt
shit is mad lame -- hip-hop party rules no jeans, Timbs
or hoodies or hats, sound like you mean me -- fuck ya!
You still get shot up ain't nuttin there
Guess jeans
With Birkenstocks on
Bright red
Bobby pins
On her hair
I tried to look at her all day
But I can't stand the blindness
That burns my eyes
Brussel in de building
Bobby zegt mij 'Chill king'
En ik heb het schijt aan elke sul dat zich te slim vindt
Me hippe sie op de achterbank
En mn tank
The rhyme cheetah, throw on the wife beater
T-shirt jeans tennis shoes didn't see ya
And this analogy, is a new strategy
And this academy is headed for
looks like a BBL but whenever I slap that arse, it moves
Jump in the jeans and it jiggles (woo)
We ain't official, maybe a little
Rick and Morty in
Drew:
I see you passing by everynight,
You're my day glow fantasy.
Your skinny jeans are fitting oh so right,
Just like you were made for me.
Jayk:
Världsbäst flyt som Panama canali
Föddes som en Fiat blev till en Ferrari
Glider som fyrahundra knyck på autobani
Du är Jean Girard jag är Ricky Bobby
qu'il appelle la baise
Dewaere est là aussi dans un coin, et il trinque
Avec Bernard Dimey, avec Bobby Lapointe
Assis autour du poêle il y a Jacques
Zeeshan
Clean, clean man, I'm feeling mean
Billie Jean, with the lean
Dancin' on the green cheddar with the bread
Even while this nigga laying
ne m'rate pas si t'essayes de m'tchin
Ne fais pas l'fou, y a le 9 sous l'jean
On fait pas d'kung-fu, mes potos rer-ti
Sous beuh de no woman, no cry
pas d'ma faute, nan nan)
Mais il faut qu'je smoke, smoke
J'fume une cigarette de shit, défoncé sur du Bobby
Allez vite amène le fric ou j'me pointe
Bobby like I'm Whitney (On God)
G-Trace, oh brudda, I'm a big G (Tracey)
My young G move scratchy, he's itchy (Scratch, scratch)
I'm not a court
quickly? (AJ!)
Big man living like a pickney (Like a wah?)
I might Bob Marley if I can't sleep (bow-bow)
But I don't love Bobby like I'm Whitney (On God)
don't look at me
Unless you've got the whole booking fee
I used to have a hole in my jeans
Holes in my tee
Now I buy outfits for the whole of my team
der Platte, ham' ne Goldene verdient
Du machst Love, du machst Peace
Wir haben Colts, in den Jeans
Laufen stolz durch den Kiez, denn er folgt uns im
qu'il appelle la baise
Dewaere est là aussi dans un coin, et il trinque
Avec Bernard Dimey, avec Bobby Lapointe
Assis autour du poêle il y a Jacques
unsre Bitch, gib Bobby ein Kuss Chicita,
Du kriegst 'nen dicken Fick von Fler mit einem Schuss Tequila.
Du wolltest es so haben, also zeig uns was du
knees
I was chatting to T while I sat in the heat
With crack in my jeans
Wrap scarf or a black mask, wap parked in a cat's yard
Black heart, never act
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