billy jean - krispylife kidd lyrics
[verse]
b*tch wanna f*ck but don’t wanna leave
yo homie in heaven playing god for the cheese
smell reggie in the air, sh*t made me sneeze
blow down a opp block, this finna be a breeze
can’t be trusted cuz the n*gga super sleaze
pulled the pistol out of, four hundred dollar jeans
put a n*gga body somewhere by the seas
pop a n*gga dead in the brain, get him green
i done dogged, f*cked and stuffed billie jean
hit the mall, and spend a long, light sleeve
n*ggas got to be sick that they can’t f*ck with me
im still coming up, your granny still wanna b
your granddad like this sh*t, now he want a feat
old ass got to come up like six fifty for a feat
n*ggas beating up they hoe cause she liked my pic
three five zero for this motherf*cking fit
sugar hill jacket, i’m bout seven hundred drip
still scream krispylife til a motherf*cker dip
off this earth, i’m getting money, you p*ssy n*gga’s hurt
he threw up a c, got him shot in the shirt
n*gga’s want to eat but don’t want to work
[?] on my head in case your b*tch want to flirt
sitting in the trap, but not trapping, how that work?
yeah we did that sh*t, now your mans on a shirt
we did that sh*t, now your mans on a shirt
we did that sh*t, alright look
this the part where i talk about the hoes too
beat my b*tch up, but only when i supposed to
yo n*gga screaming that he hard, but he froze too
i’m from beecher, so i ain’t said “posed to”
n*gga’s dying bout a b*tch that we all hittin
n*gga’s dying bout a b*tch that we all hittin
n*gga’s dying bout a b*tch that we all hittin
n*gga’s dying bout a b*tch that we all hittin
n*gga’s dying bout a b*tch that we all hittin
n*gga’s dying bout a b*tch that we all hittin
n*gga’s dying bout a b*tch that we all hittin
n*gga’s dying bout a b*tch that we all hittin
n*gga’s dying bout a b*tch, that we all hittin
my glock bald*headed, i’m talking bout this b*tch extensions
n*gga’s never on they block cause they know i’ma spin it
hoes suck my meat, cause they know i’m spittin
spent four*fifty on this jean fit and now i’m drippin
kick that b*tch to the curb, her p*ssy wasn’t hittin
block the ho number, she was doing too much trippin
tell me it fell out your pocket mane, on that level i be pimpin
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