Lyrics Splatt - Soulja Boy

Splatt

Don’t speak on my name cuz you know it be splatt!\nMini Mac-90, it came with the kickback\nDon’t diss on my gang, cuz, nigga, I invented that\nGet the drop, ready to spin that\nThe Lamborghini look like — go drop the top\nTrap out the mansion\nVVS diamonds, everything was dancing\nYoung nigga trap out a Phantom\nCartier watch when I crash a McLaren\nI’m from Westside, Zone 1, nigga, we pop if you starin'\nPrincess-cut diamonds they pullin' my earrings\nHeadshot a nigga, he reach for my jewelry\nDrop off the top on the Porsche and a young nigga starin'\nThis a rose-gold Rolex, this shit ain’t no steel or —\nSilver\nPop out the cut on that nigga\nI see the man when I look in the mirror\nI’m sippin' on lean, this shit ain’t no liquor\nIt’ll last longer if nigga just go take a picture\nBig Draco been fuckin' your sister\nTrap out the Hellcat, them bricks in a Fisker\nI put them birds in a Tesla\nFake ass nigga, faker than a wrestler\nI put that boy on a stretcher\nStraight drop, sellin' Wockhardt — this pressure\nThem junkies, they comin', they want the extra\nDon’t speak on my name cuz you know it be splatt!\nMini Mac-90, it came with the kickback\nDon’t diss on my gang, cuz, nigga, I invented that\nGet the drop, ready to spin that\nThe Lamborghini look like — go drop the top\nTrap out the mansion\nVVS diamonds, everything was dancing\nYoung nigga trap out a Phantom\nEverything was dancing\nThese niggas see me, they panic\nI send the brick through the west, Atlantic\nI’m from Zone 1, Westside, trap out a Aston\nNo kizzy, no cap, used to serve your auntie\nTrap out the\n, nigga, I trap out apartments\nWritin' a book like a author\nDouble down on 'em, might shoot with no warning\nHoller «Suwoo!» and them Bloods start swarming\nI up the Draco, send more shots than the Army\nThey callin' my phone, «Draco, I need a verse!»\n«Nigga, give me 200, I’m sorry»\nBig Draco, nigga, done bought the apartments\nTrap out the Aston Martin\nI catch an opp and I send 'em to dearly departed\nDouble R Cullinan, 240\nZaza pack smell like I farted\nI pull up, serve you a ton\nI got a brick and a bomb\nI put my clip on my gun\nWhere I grew up, boy, we shoot it for fun\n55- Ruger, that’s my favorite gun\nHold on, I met the Draco\nHeadshot, faceshot, lil' nigga lay low\nFree that boy Yayo\nCame home from jail with nun' but a Draco\nOn gang