| Bust down my shorty
|
| Shit I paid for it, gotta take mines
|
| She’s damn near forty
|
| But wait for it, she’s a straight dime
|
| Rock a black cloak in the day time
|
| Keep a canine for the lame kind
|
| Never OE or the Saint Ides
|
| I’m for realzies no play time
|
| Mmhhmm heard dat
|
| Cause I ain’t never known you to lie
|
| Why start now? |
| in the Carlyle
|
| So arrogant with the argyle
|
| Got a crew sweater and it’s blue heather
|
| If you knew better, then you’d do better
|
| Eating bruschetta, running through feta
|
| If you want war, bring it, whoever
|
| I ain’t never known you to lie x4
|
| Bust down my lady
|
| She got a wider frame and her toes beat
|
| She’s damn near eighty
|
| With the spider veins and the crows feet
|
| She’s an old freak on a cold streak
|
| Til we started speaking at Jones Beach
|
| Stay at phones reach, she got four teeth
|
| And her curtains looking like roast beef
|
| Like agh, my nigga EP, you ain’t never known me to lie
|
| I be in magazines, eating langoustines
|
| Drinking fresh juice from the mangosteen
|
| Swiping all the cream, stipend all the team
|
| In a bow tie piping Paula Dean
|
| On the low creep, going so deep
|
| What you hitting daddy?
|
| That’s what you call a spleen
|
| I ain’t never known you to lie x4
|
| I ain’t never known you to lie x4 |