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jeff dahmer - stanwill lyrics

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[intro]
(ooh sh*t, that’s a danny g beat)
huh (sh*t, f*ck, d*mn)

[verse 1]
matte black ‘vette with interior red guts
i just the neck, baby, give yo head up
feed you to them pits if you get me fed up
call the chop “jeffrey dahmer”, it’ll eat yo mans up
how the f*ck i’m balling? i ain’t touch the court
pull up waving sticks around, feel like dumbledore
as*salamu alayk*m, tell them pigs i don’t f*ck with pork
ain’t no stitches in this whip but it’s six 9s
i be swimming with them sharks, don’t get fish fried
she don’t f*ck with dsm? boy, yo b*tch lie
i’ll walk him down and leave him dead, b*tch, i’m rick grimes
hoes in the whip like i fight fire
hutch did the piece, b*tch, my ice brighter
buffalos on, i don’t like wires
all these hoes’ll stab you in yo back like they mike myers
it’s funny when you up, everybody down
but when you down, everybody up on you
bet i lay you down if i get the ups on you
all that talking down, now it’s funny how i’m up on you
black mirror tints off the icy white buffs
ninety*nine problems, don’t give ninety*nine f*cks
died in the streets, don’t know why he signed up
he brought his b*tch to the club, don’t know why she eyeing us
[break]
“i knew i was sick or evil, or both. now i believe i was sick. the doctors have told me about my sickness and now i have some peace”

[verse 2]
huh
think i need some theraflu because i’m sick of hoes
i don’t care how much i make, i don’t get sick of pros
run it up and find designer sh*t to spend it on
we got straps inside this whip but we ain’t buckled up
how we fly around with sticks, we look like hufflepuff
if you see me with yo b*tch, i made her juggle nuts
i been in that field for real and i ain’t fumble once
no cap
had to tint the buffies ’cause my ice bright
keep a glocky on my waist, i ain’t the fight type
why he tryna cuff that b*tch? she ain’t the wife type
buffs on, 59fifty to the back
pass it off to bro ’cause he get jiggy with the strap
gotta stay alert ’cause it get iffy where i’m at
burning rubber in the kitty, we get litty in them ‘cats
called the chop a dyk* ’cause it’s some titties on the strap
we ain’t selling drugs, it’s only giffies in the trap
i just want the mouth, she tryna hit me with the wap
sayonara to the law, boy, they can’t get me in the track’

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