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show off - fedd the god lyrics

[intro]
yea yea

[verse 1]
she said i’ma show off
i run the money up n*gga like go off
no laws, these n*ggas is p*ssy, they soft, got no b*lls
beef on the internet, like some lil ass b*tches, i don’t get involved
now my neck be lit up like its christmas, call me jack frost
the way i spend a check then get it back they think i’m bank fraud
f*ckin on this b*tch then give her back, she take my tank off
we beefing on the streets they hit the cells get they shank on
you left your little b*tch i’m at her crib getting my plank on

[chorus]
choppa make a n*gga hopscotch
ooh, pistol make a n*gga beatbox
ooh, u think i’m stressing p*ssy we not
ooh, purest coke i got the streets hot

[verse 2]
f*ckin’ on these b*tches, get the money, how it goes
my neck is like a glacier, go see [?] get it froze
fetty a real trapper he got p’s, g’s and o’s
i don’t wanna f*ck your lady, she can’t keep her mouth closed
marilyn monroe, bad ass white b*tch, she wanna share with the bros
where’d he go, ’bout to catch a flight, go chill with the pros
n*ggas is hoes, only time will tell you’ll get exposed
she play with her rose, i’m in this b*tch so deep she curl her toes
play your role lil b*tch, i’ll cut you off, you won’t be missed
he said he want some wock
sold his p*ssy ass some [?]
everyday is christmas, all these b*tches getting gifts
diamonds bling bling, glisten like sierra mist

[chorus]
show off
choppa make a n*gga hopscotch
ooh, pistol make a n*gga beatbox
ooh, u think i’m stressing p*ssy we not
ooh, purest coke i got the streets hot
show off

choppa make a n*gga hopscotch
ooh, pistol make a n*gga beatbox
ooh, u think i’m stressing p*ssy we not
ooh, purest coke i got the streets hot

- fedd the god lyrics

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