| Stuff-
|
| Stuff a-
|
| Uh
|
| I stuff a Glock in my bitch pocket (Hey)
|
| Bitch stop it, skinny nigga, big poppin' (Hey)
|
| You put the pedal to metal we go Nicki Minaj (Huh)
|
| One deep, baby, you can’t top it (Brrat)
|
| 5'9″, with the stick, I look like Big Papi
|
| I keep a shotty, bottom bitches not harm me
|
| How could I not be? |
| Everything you copy, huh
|
| I killed rock, now I’m sending bullets at you zombies
|
| You never haunt me (Hah), niggas tried to Vietnam me (Yeah)
|
| But I’ve been playing with pistols since you watching Toonami (Yeah)
|
| I’m not a rapper, I’m white trash in a mocha body
|
| Ain’t no career, I’m just hoping Madonna adopts me (Facts)
|
| I get it popping, fuck rock, bump pop (Brrat)
|
| I put the stock in, I’m scheming, I’m not plottin' (Heh)
|
| These niggas steppin' to me, end up Gianni Versace’d, nigga
|
| Say, say
|
| Do a feature for what
|
| Bro, I been dyin' to kick it
|
| I’m too big for my britches, I’m too rich for these bitches
|
| Rich in spirit, not in wealth, nigga, don’t get it confused, you feel me
|
| Again, do a feature for what (Like, for what, for what)
|
| And you know that I’m afraid of everything
|
| Written like a girl who stuck her heart away
|
| And you know that I’m afraid of everything
|
| Baby, love me close, tonight
|
| Keep goin', baby
|
| Make me cry, nigga
|
| Like, make me fuckin' cry
|
| Make me fuckin' cry
|
| We talkin' about this story, I’m 'bout to fuckin' cry
|
| We talkin' about this story, I’m 'bout to fuckin' cry |