Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Shit I'm On, artist - DJ Muggs.
Date of issue: 11.10.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Shit I'm On |
Uh, uh, uh, fuck you thought, boy? |
Uh |
You already know what we doing, boy |
King shit, shit, uh, uh, huh, uh |
I flood the shipyard, you rap subpar |
Fuck a roof, why cover the cars, white like a Dove bar |
Park the double R, pull your trump card |
This hog’s 300 large, front on the God, you get dumped on |
You tumbled when your number was called |
The 40 long calls, you do summersault, dog |
Don’t worry, lord, the summer’s all yours |
The pump still up under the London fog |
The horse is imported from Portugal |
My songs is like soft porn |
Pouring Pourisons with tall Amazons |
Black Panameras, Tony Montana standards |
Scramblers is scanners in the Porsche |
Grams is soft, we used to scramble on the porch |
For what a Phantom cost, I blam at your thoughts |
Transport snort, so raw the shit snowballed |
Got bowling balls for balls |
My redbone whore, she like Charlie Baltimore |
We up, my dog, check the scoreboard |
The crib four floors, you know we in this for the long haul |
That shit I’m on |
Uh, that’s that shit I’m on |
Roll the window down and hit 'em all |
That’s that shit I’m on |
That’s that shit I’m on |
That’s that shit I’m on |
Roll the window down and hit 'em all |
Huh, uh, yo, lime green Gallardo |
I’m like Marlo without the scar though |
You know how karma go |
The AR strap go over the collar bone |
I bone fly hoes in Ferragamo |
My shine still glow from behind a blindfold |
Rock the frozen manteca, the Rollie Skydweller |
Uh, they crashed the Regera on La Cienaga |
All my lines is like cinema |
The tool shot derringers close by, I feel like I’m John Derringer |
Uh, all my clothes is Italian cut (Italian cut) |
Only fuck with bitches if they down to fuck (Uh) |
My shades a thousand bucks and up |
I got a Russian plug, I get you plugged (Plugged) |
Your heart’ll stop pumping blood (Uh) |
Get fly for the hoes in the no fly zone |
Copped the R Seven Quattro, y’all don’t drive those |
We fly fly hoes to the Galapagos with white gold ropes |
To keep 'em right, we get 'em lipo’d |
Aight though |
Uh, that’s that shit I’m on |
Roll the window down and hit 'em all |
That’s that shit I’m on |
That’s that shit I’m on |
That’s that shit I’m on |
Roll the window down and hit 'em all |