jackson 5 - dreezy lyrics
[intro]
uh*oh, uh*oh
ay. ay
[verse 1]
still that b*tch with all the [?], like janet and the jackson 5
told ’em i’d be rich by twenty*five, now hoes actin’ surprised
made it out to hollywood, i still ain’t lost my ratchet side
b*tch think she flexin’ in that fit, i told her, “even maggets fly”
[?] i’m jet laggin’ (jet laggin’), since [?] in the band wagon (band wagon)
new whip, i don’t even wanna drive that sh*t, prolly let my mans have it (skrrt, skrrt)
folks know i got a xan habit
if you pull the glock out, i wouldn’t stand by it (watch out)
this that drip that ain’t no [?], you’ll have to go handbag
yeah, a*m*g*6*3, with the window tint, i don’t even see no b*tch (i don’t even see no ho)
[?] i could go bar for bar, i don’t even need no hit (uh*huh)
princess cut, my diamonds crushed up, had to go bleed my wrist
neman marcus, private shopper, had to double c my fit
[chorus]
very rare, perfect dairy air, i give him h*ll though
i’m everywhere, gucci carrier but i don’t sell, though
got all these n*ggas trippin’
shoe ain’t laced, switch to velcro
think you steppin’? get to poppin’ at your feet
you rockin’ sh*ll toes
me and mine? we gon’ ride like it’s universal
foreign cars outside you b*tches ain’t never heard of
goin’ off everytime time and i can tell it hurts ‘em
if you wanna otherside, i hope you take it personal
i cannot go back and forth with you, i got work to do (lil’ b*tch)
you don’t have to see me, you gon’ hear me first
in a perelli skirt, ooh
bank account checked up, vvs’d up
b*tch, i got right now, f*ck who next up
[verse 2]
i’m so f*ckin’ dope, i might just make my own stain
how these b*tches ain’t got clout but tryna make a onlyfans? (dummy)
we made it so i’m faded just like when the song ends
i’m so up, next offer i might tell my label, “no, advance”
i ain’t tryna make new friends, but i’ll let that n*gga be my paypal
mean muggin’ for him like [?]
i’m with some real b*tches, we don’t fake a smile
pretty as f*ck, so whenever he nut, n*gga tell me don’t put my face down
slim shady, spit it like 8 mile
b*tches only hit it from the waist down
[chorus]
very rare, perfect dairy air, i give him h*ll though
i’m everywhere, gucci carrier but i don’t sell, though
got all these n*ggas trippin’
shoe ain’t laced, switch to velcro
think you steppin’? get to poppin’ at your feet
you rockin’ sh*ll toes
me and mine? we gon’ ride like it’s universal
foreign cars outside you b*tches ain’t never heard of
goin’ off everytime time and i can tell it hurts ‘em
if you wanna otherside, i hope you take it personal
i cannot go back and forth with you, i got work to do (lil’ b*tch)
you don’t have to see me, you gon’ hear me first
in a perelli skirt, ooh
bank account checked up, vvs’d up
b*tch, i got right now, f*ck who next up
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