lirikcinta.com
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

k.y.h.o.m.p.b - smoov-e lyrics

Loading...

[verse 1: reek daddy]
exotic clubs whole body rubs, under the table lap dances for the thugs
hugs and kisses to all you b*tches, the ones who get down been now relentless
hoes with ass and big ol’ titties, b*tches be the same in different cities
some act saditty some be turned out, but gettin me paid is what it’s all about
some seek perfection, use protection
some won’t tell ya when they got infections
love for the hoes that havе my scrilla, ain’t scared to ride the d*ck of a k!lla
lеt a n*gga get up in the back like (woo woo)
anyway you want it young dog like (woo woo)
we can take it the motel cash up front, you can take it to the back seat if ya want
don’t trip jus watch your scratch, she got that game from a big ol’ mac
b*tch keep a strap and be down to jack, ain’t nothin worse that a b*tch with a gat
fine as f*ck but don’t let that fool ya, that’s that hoe who’ll truly do ya
thought ya knew you just can’t trust none, peep the game as the b*tch try to run
don’t be so dumb that you can’t look past them proper titties and all that ass
raggly that’s what i call it, raggly b*tch she done stole ya wallet
pop ya collar like a bull whip, let the hoe know you’ll bust her lip
e, let em know what they know about this?

[verse 2: smoov*e]
keep your hand out my pocket b*tch!
my wallets closed you don’t get this money, you met the man who treat you like peg bundy
she hungry like a b*tch wit a jaw sewn, hoe bumpin’ smoov*e on the headphones
had the ass in the air on the first night, got her wet when she heard me breathe on the mic
i did not know not callin’ back would make you cry, she left the room stankin’ like tuna on rye
e’s breezy he’s not like sony f*ck phonies, trick keeps to get left lonely
montana, tony and them goodfellas, big breasted hoes and all those bank tellers
always with they hands in someone else’s cash, couldn’t stack a dollar to save their ass
pass one say i should roll a j, but you say i should knock it
broke out the backwood pack from my pocket, get wit it
you got infections, persuade the man push in the wrong directions
turned out that’s what i call it, turned out b*tch just smoked your chronic
trust is one of things you just can’t have, along with the number to my cell phone
cause b*tch you bad glad to see you go, who gonna blow my friends
you stay around and make some ends?
19 to put the sh*t together, s*x fiends ain’t nothin but pleasure
smoov*e’ll keep you d*ck addicted, salaz keep your body constricted
reek daddy’ll bust your lip, jackpot hypnotized your b*tch
pat rich done laid the law and nicky got tricky and laced em all
[verse 3: andre nickatina]
some of these hoes tryna count my figures, and when i clown em they run and get they n*ggas
cause hoe i’m just like a jaguar, get served so superb in a bad car
follow me hoe, yeah come follow me
smoke a little weed, now you wanna swallow me
talking like a square freak on the phone, i had to hit the p*ssy with the lights on
actin real bad with your friends and sh*t, all in my ear sayin’ call you a b*tch
mackin’ is somethin’ that i don’t sweat, i’m a pisces hoe i’m a get you wet check
i’m a rat just lookin for cheddar, you got a bad b*tch?
n*gga mines way badder
b*tch you’s a b*tch and everything about you is a b*tch
don’t stop being that b*tch
b*tch actin like a fool on a motorola celly, didn’t take much for me to get her to the telly
clown suit ready she had to have fetti, now i’m bout to treat her like bl*wj*b betty
ass is something that’s mandatory, she didn’t have no ass that’s the end a story
unless her pockets got h*lla loot, but she still gotta be like h*lla cute punk b*tch

[verse 4: jackpot]
i run game on the ducks and the bad b*tch ass, better have hash if they ain’t got cash
i’m mad now it’s time to improvise, rely on my game to keep em hypnotized
i’m chargin’ and b*tch i ain’t cheap wear your hot pants or i’m comin’ with heat
jackpot, they thought they knew
keep the game sacred only spittin’ clues
only givin’ rules to the hoes that choose, and if they ain’t double down man i cut ‘em loose like that
and reinstate my draft, so many hoes and so few paths
can you sell a wh0re a dream in a paragraph, make the b*tch cry then make her laugh
you gotta be a sav’ under all conditions, keep the b*tch sprung with her d*ck addiction
maybe that b*tch need d*ck restriction, cut her ass off till she learn to listen
watch her come beggin’ for her old position, purse wide open for the playa she missin’
but b*tch you ain’t worth yo change, ain’t nothin you can do about this playboys game
no names cause your just a number, september p*ssy like an indian summer
thats it that hot sauce sh*t, caught her ass playin’ keep sprung on the d*ck
jackpot spit one more rhyme, but only for the plays on uphill climb
one grind and don’t you fall behind, keep a hand in her pocket if you donate time
[verse 5: pat rich]
let the boss hit the crown, hot tricks get clowned
put my bad hands up and lay this mack hand down
which one should i choose? i got nothin’ to lose, but i’m a make that decision after i hit this booze
f*ckin pimp slap that b*tch to the curb, had her hand in my pocket tryin’ to gank my herb
some humboldt live put down my colt 45, she just socked this punk ass b*tch in the eye
crazy scandalous b*tch that’s what i call it, tryin’ to run that game on this alcoholic
i thought you knew you sorry hoes get nathan, observe this pimp game demonstration
haters get mad sh*t they drawers, when they found out pat rich done f*cked they broads
wanna check this hog? you need to check that trick
keep your hand out my pocket b*tch
you wanna ride my d*ck? wanna sport my chain?
wanna floss my ride? you hoes is insane
take a listen tramp b*tch, dip the 6 with the hardcore tint pearl paint straight sick
f*ck no i rather take your trick ass to the ‘moe, hit that ass to kick that little trick ass to the door
bust the flows keep f*ckin’ all your hoes, once a*motherf*ckin*gain like i did it before
i know ya wanna ride with pat rich don’t you? hit that ass and find out i don’t even want you
call you a straight up b*tch, it ain’t funny no money all you gettin’ is d*ck

[verse 6: count salaz]
i be the blitz’n lineback, hitting out the blindside motherf*ckin’ spine crack
can’t n0body f*ck with the razorback, the only b*tch i miss is my eight tre’ ‘lac
straight bad actin playa so crass, cause foul mouth clown with that b*tches ass
survived a straight up catastrophe, with her long f*cked up family history
got her way too bitter, f*cked by the babysitter
never understood why pops always hit her
now the sh*t got her actin like a great white shark, let her past year in a skylark
got one kid she care less about, while she peepin’ out put your d*ck in her mouth
picture frames, ashtrays, vcrs
if she catch your ass slippin’ it’s all in her car
but not me, might give you tricks hoes like a boa
i’ll swallow up that whole hoodrat real slow
sledge hammer f*ck em all straight through the floor, and if you didn’t know then b*tch now you know
about these hog intentions i failed to mention, before droppin’ from the back tuggin’ on your extensions
so pay attention trick before you come sit, better recognize this motherf*ckin’ pure bred pit
cause i’ll lock ’em up so keep ya d*mn hand out my pocket, i give a f*ck i’ll rip your whole arm outta socket
so what you think you got it you better check your surroundings, cause i got some k!ller hoe snipers strapped with high powered brownings
that won’t hesitate to put an end to the shady, but i got love for all you down ass ladies
that ain’t scared to jock a savage, who ain’t too good for f*ckin’
and all you wanna be hard to get hookers keep truckin’
cause the bull is back, a thoroughbred mac
i got the number 1 defense guardin’ my scratch
[outro]
pretty little wh0re found out, and we gon’ do some business
pretty little wh0re found out, and we gon’ do some business
do some business

Random Song Lyrics :

Popular

Loading...