Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Stretch Marks & Cigarette Burns (feat. Panchi, Imani Montana), artist - Blaq Poet. Album song The Blaqprint, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 30.07.2009
Record label: Year Round
Song language: English
Stretch Marks & Cigarette Burns (feat. Panchi, Imani Montana) |
Woo-han |
What |
Who han, Woo han |
What up niggas |
It’s crazy |
Yo Panchi |
Call Sha |
Call Premo |
Tell them let’s meet in the club |
Yo |
I came in the club with a couple of goons |
We was already drunk, now we’re smoking the |
Little shorty on the stage, she was wilding, dancing |
Whole motherfucking crowd screaming, chanting |
«Move something, shake something |
Break something, bitch» |
I was like «Oh shit, what the fuck they’re saying?» |
But shorty don’t care 'cause she had these niggas paying |
Had them niggas laying out all their bread |
Had them niggas standing on their motherfucking head |
Had them niggas waiting on line for their turn |
Niggas love stretch marks and cigarette burns |
«Move something, shake something |
Break something, bitch» |
I was like, «Oh shit, what the fuck they’re saying?» |
Stretch marks and cigarette burns |
«Move something, shake something |
Break something, bitch» |
I was like |
(«Yo, what the fuck are they yelling?») |
Stretch marks and cigarette burns |
Yo this is for my bitches in the shelters who don’t need shelter |
You’re just doing that shit for a crib |
And all my bad little bitches, if your baby father hit you |
Stick that ice cold knife in his ribs |
And all my bitches pimp the system, tell your workers |
Fuck that, you gon' have more kids |
And you ain’t have them 'cause you need them, but now, you got to feed them |
So you figure that your ass gonna strip |
In the club setting, niggas dancing, bra sweating |
As the bass booms, more sweat consumes |
And you wonder how thousands can fit in a room |
The speakers is bumping 'til it damn near pop |
These hoes is dancing 'til they damn near drop |
But I sit back and observe the whole scenery |
And nonchalantly tell you what it mean to me |
The filer says no boots and jeans |
I’m in the back blowing trees, dipped in army fatigues |
Little bitch on my back, when will I learn |
Not to fuck with stretch marks and cigarette burns |
(«Yo, what the fuck are they yelling?») |
Got love bitches, sliding down the pole bitches |
Twelve to four bitches, don’t matter, you’re my bitches |
Stretch marks and cigarette burns, alright, bitches |
Can’t knock your grind, live your life, bitches |
Get money, be the best at what you do |
Cocksucker want to judge, tell them, motherfuck you |
You done mastered the art of this seduction shit |
See homie came tonight but hopes he can fuck your shit |
nigga screaming we don’t love them hoes |
Type to question why dance to her pole |
But he fucking with but she buying him clothes |
Telling ass nigga, G’s don’t take you on the road |
In tune with the soul, can’t tell me nothing |
Have a man lick it up, fronting |
Who you think you fooling, look at you drooling |
Love what’s she doing, what is she doing |
Top on the pole, thick, legs in a split |
Working her way down like she’s riding your dick |
Now you want to lick every burn and stretch marks |
What else can I say, we the best, ma |