Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 1-800-SMD, artist - Shotgun Willy. Date of issue: 05.08.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
1-800-SMD |
| I’m a rockstar tryna fuck a pornstar |
| And I keep a blade light, Sword Art Online |
| How’d you get a sports car? |
| «I don’t know, it’s not mine» |
| Any more questions? |
| Please, hit my hotline |
| At 1−800 suck a motherfuckin' dick |
| Please, call me up, please, call me up |
| I’m young McLovin, got a super bad bitch |
| She want me, yeah, she want me, yeah |
| 'Cause I don’t pick up, leave a voicemail |
| Rooftop chillin' at the hotel |
| Whole game on my back like Odel |
| Can’t keep up, tell 'em, «Oh, well» |
| Now I’m fuckin' bitches and money and that’s it |
| You don’t like the shit that I’m makin', then suck dick |
| Carti man, Rick, bunch of motherfuckers on the ride up on my wave |
| Out the way 'fore I slap a pussy boy like Brad Pitt, shit |
| Momma raised a boy to be a pimp, pimp |
| Fur coat vibin' at the wrist, wrist |
| Good role model for the kids, kids |
| Willy went and made another hit |
| Last date that I had was a court date |
| I’m hard, you soft like sorbet |
| Not parfait, no foreplay |
| You be lookin' sweet like a strawberry shortcake |
| Who you think is next up, I’m better |
| I got drank in my cup like bender |
| That boy said that I suck, whatever |
| I got riches switched up, Bruce Jenner |
| At 1−800 suck a motherfuckin' dick |
| Please, call me up, please, call me up |
| I’m young McLovin, got a super bad bitch |
| She want me, yeah, she want me, yeah |
| 'Cause I don’t pick up, leave a voicemail |
| Rooftop chillin' at the hotel |
| Whole game on my back like Odel |
| Can’t keep up, tell 'em, «Oh, well» |
| I don’t like you, you, you |
| Hear the phone ring, ring, ring |
| Everything new, new, new |
| Lookin' like a king, king, king |
| Money stack tall, tall, tall |
| I’m talkin' Yao Ming, Ming, Ming |
| Fuck it, we ball, ball, ball |
| I told that boy swing, swing, swing |
| I’m soundin' like hey, better, better, hey, better, better |
| Then I watch your brain splatter, splatter, brain splatter, splatter |
| On my way up like a ladder, no chitter-chatter |
| I don’t give a fuck, it don’t matter 'less it make my pockets fatter |
| You could hear the pitter-patter tappin', I’m at your door |
| And I’m attached with a piece of chrome, I’m just so happy to know it |
| That you were lackin' while my GPS was trackin' your home |
| And I sent it back and if you have it, tell him call at my phone |