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peter pan - stanwill lyrics

[intro]
alright, yeah

[verse]
make sure you say i’m rich when you send me in yo group chat
looking at the stars while i drive, where my roof at?
feel like nino, heading to my city with some new jacks
throw the buffys on while she suck it, with my cool*ass
we do not beef, you just mad that yo b*tch blew me
holding on to high school clout? you a big goofy
telling bae my heart loyal but she know my d*ck choosing
me and gang tripping up at [?] we punch six movies
i was counted out, got ‘em tryna add me up now
funny me and gang stayed down but we up now
i’ll knock the head off yo neck, tryna touch mine
yo b*tch want a rapper, she gon’ do it for the one time
b*tch freak me out, all she wanna do is suck my b*lls
telling model hoes, “it ain’t no fun unless you f*ck my dawg”
rich*ass d*ck, b*tch, i spent two hunnid bucks on drawers
was down on the score, now we a hunnid up on y’all
all these racks, i could f*ck around, win the wimbledon
said the sh*ttyboyz ain’t sh*tting? you a simpleton
everybody on my team scoring when i dish to them
only get one shot in life so i’m swishing it
i done blew the [?] on my jeep, now i’m switching whips
i’ll light a opp house up, on some christmas sh*t
i’m a sinner but my diors on some christian sh*t
b22s tied up but i’m tripping, b*tch
i don’t do no d*ck sucking, i don’t do no clique jumping
brodie running ‘round mean*mugging, tryna bl!ck something
made ten at ten*something, paint step like tim duncan
riding ‘round with tools on me, i ain’t tryna fix nothing
sack on the floor? i’m jumping in like a sleeping bag
got the glock tucked but ju sleaze, he’ll sleep his ass
main b*tch tryna beat me up, with my cheating*ass
sr to the d*mn t when we screeching pass
you could march around with a drum, still won’t see a band
ever since a boy i always knew that i’ll be the man
i’ll up stick and stick him up, let me see them hands
flying around the d with green on me like i’m peter pan
small drac’, pretty bi— huh, yeah, okay
like, yeah, huh
small drac’, pretty b*tch, and a big k
next year it’s drop top porsche when i switch lanes
b*tches looking at the group like, “who the f*ck up the most?”
i been so deep in my bag that the duffel broke
love when it’s chicken in my fingers, b*tch, i’m uncle joe
they ain’t put no pape’ in my pockets so it’s f*ck these hoes
i can peep the fake love through my buffalos
i can talk sticks, no cap, got a bunch of those
mike amiri pockets stuffed with blue strip onion rolls
on a giffy tour with gang*gang if i hug the road
six hunnid just to mean*mug through a fendi tee
b*tch copy everything i do, she my mini me
ain’t one in you but i swear it’s a m in me
everything i wear wet as f*ck, you can’t swim with me
sbdsm, t*double h*l
gang affiliation, got ‘em thinking that i can’t spell
brodie ringing down the opp block with that drake bell
had to tell her, “i don’t chase hoes, b*tch, i chase mail”
[outro]
ha*ha, no cap though
dumbass n*gga
yeah, huh, sh*ttyboyz

- stanwill lyrics

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