dont belong - staccula lyrics
[verse 1: stacc]
canary diamonds all up on my wrist
no i can’t f*ck, cuz’ she a groupie b*tch
go out in public, tryna get my pics
bad ass hoe, i saw her ass on pinterest
i stay on the low, i been out the mix
text her phone, now she sending tits
semi auto cook him, just like some grits
twin gon’ shoot like he play for the knicks
your hoe on my body, w rizz
walk in that b*tch, i got w rizz
wock in my cup, it go straight to my kidney
n*gga want smoke, i gave him the chimney
choppa gon rape, not talking yung filly
he tryna spin, yeah that boy is so silly
uh, slide with a semi, uh
send smoke to your city, uh
foreign b*tch say she want some
freaky b*tch stick out her tongue
racks on lizzo, got a ton
like your dad, we get ‘em gone
pour my feelings in a song
you not gang, you don’t belong
[verse 2: rimo]
yo*you not gang you don’t belong
that boy get smoked like a bong
twin got glock, he get em gone
i*i got ksubi on my pants like i’m blowing up tomorrow
twin saw that i’m acting different, he like “bro what’s going on”
i said “nun, i’m just going up”
i left her in the past cuz that how too stuck
now my new hoe got a stupid b*tt
pull up to my show baby, like wassup
skrt off in a rover he got in a bus
i’m hanging the ops like ku ku klux
that lil boy he dl, yea he sus
he steady on the net sucking d*ck for fun
he get hit with bonus bullets like deluxe
yea yea, that choppa sing
yea yea, i’m puffing that wild like i’m link
yea yea, no hoe, we cannot link
yea yea, my diamonds drip on me like a sink
yea yea, i made a cool hundred ball while you blink
i’m on my grind like tony hawk
i don’t wanna talk tuah, just give me hawk
[verse 3: desiree]
can’t talk to yo hoe i got no rizz
pouring that drank, yeah i’m pouring that fizz
2 twin glocks, i don’t know what to pick
walk in the store, yeah they know who it is
pull up with shooters, we gonna do hits
toting them guns, yeah we toting them bricks
hawk tuah
i don’t talk tuah
got my gun, i might shoot ya
with my gang, we some ‘ootas
choppa sing, “do da, do da”
orange on me like some hooters
pull up on him in a scooter
counting cash, counting mula
going up like a rula
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