Lyrics Cliché - Sts

Cliché

Yeah, ho Yeah, ho
Yeah, ho Yeah, ho
I’m a groupie fucking, liquor sipping, weed smoking rapper
do it for the love, it’s the money that I’m after
I told ya’ll cocksuckers once before that I’m a bastard
Mother fuck what he say, I’m your favorite cliche
Verses full of fuckery, still can’t nobody fuck with me
I’m all about my cash you cannot get enough from me
Gucci stitches in my jeans, this the lap of luxury
STS on 85, ho I’m sitting comfortably
My bitch in that she look like her
And that, so we got some company
They all up on my stanky leg, let me check my dougie
Then I crank my superman after that I swag and surf
Bitch, I pop my tags on I shop where the stars be
Don’t add me up I’m fly
Ho, I be where Mars be
That’s hella hella hella hot
I be on that Marley
With plastic titty, blonde
I be on them barbie
Zoom on that Yamaha, no this a Harley
Watch it girl, I catch a
Then I’m thinking gnarly
You got to charge that to the game
your bitch ain’t charge me
I breaker break her
Like Alpha, Bravo, Charlie
My arrogance is ignorant
Polo on my cleanliness
I be talking labels I got universal penmanship
Mary gray to yellow lizards
What I wear my linen with
Then give me the co-sign, let’s go to the dealership
White green
Like a bowl of spinach dip
I might buy a small town I was think French
Let go tear the mall down, my bitch into the French shit
We look like some curly fries, damn that might be Jeezy bit
87 32, and I got my kit
Rock a fitted, lean with it
They think I’m weezy sick
I might need a Dr. Dre to come see my immediate
I know they think I’m the shit I saw it when they tweeted it
Gain ten, and lost one
There they go deleting it
Boy, ain’t that a dirty game
You’re down right devious
A-T-L,
I am what you need in this
Your favorite rapper in the lab like ashes on my petri dish