neverland - stanwill lyrics
[intro]
haha, i predicted all my—
haha
duh
i predicted all my—, i’m the weatherman, b*tch (313 mafia)
this b*tch crazy
it was rainin’, but
it was rainin’, but, you know? like
ha
[verse]
i predicted all my sunny days like i’m the weatherman
this b*tch think i love her, she must live in neverland
they must hate me ’cause i’m doin’ sh*t they never can
catch him stealin’ from a list’ll leave him with a severed hand
she gon’ rip me out it ’cause my fit cost seven bands
wouldn’t fight my opposites if i had seven hands
sneakers came from paris with a b*tch i met in france
you won’t catch me tuckin’ diamonds, b*tch, i let ’em dance
all the baddies i done hit should throw me up on zeus
courtesy of hutch, i still be cold inside my goose
what you make a month i probably poured inside my juice
you can check our mris, it ain’t no ho inside my group
i’m with the militia, catch me posted up with soldiers
i dropped out of college, had more paper than my folders
pendants or my b*tches, i don’t even know what’s colder
holy bible or my bank account, don’t know what’s longer
f*ck the human race, b*tch, i’m a loner
all you smell is zotti, zotti, zotti, i’m with stoners
funny how i dog his b*tch but she gon’ eat my b*n*r
schwarzenegger or my cartis, i don’t know what’s stronger
boy, i treat your b*tch just like i own her
glocky in my mike amiri holster
your b*tch want my heart, i’m not a donor
i can only trust a ho as far as i can throw her
pull up, hundred rounder throw his team in the spittal
up around the floor, ain’t no between or no middle
jeans might be blue but i got green in my denim
you can’t lock us out, we got the keys to the system
i don’t pose for pictures, i up cheese when i’m in ’em
got a couple tricks up in my sleeve, let me get ’em
she got messy head, i put my seed in her dental
dog sh*t militia, smell like money, weed, and a kennel, haha
all got our own, we don’t share sh*t
if we pull up striker, we can’t spare sh*t
in the lab like morty, i don’t wear ricks
knock the retina off your optic nerve if you stare, b*tch
is they suckin’ or they f*ckin’? forty ass to hoes
everytime we drop an opp, we pour our ass some fours
goldie glocks, point it where his poridge at and blow
achieved everything i dreamed about, i’m soarin’ past my goals, huh
b*tch, dog sh*t militia
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