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bullshit - sts lyrics

[verse sts]
cannabis connoisseur, two creams in my kahlua
lipstick on my lapel, [cristobal?] out of cuba
follow as i maneuver, luxury tag [hueler?]
labels don’t make me hot, b-tch, ain’t no n-gga cooler
sl!cker than sl!ck rick the ruler
she my little la di da di, she compliments my dougie
my life’s an after party, we hot as warm wasabi
i toast to that [wasaki?]
got polo on my body, she wants to be my jockey
flyer than philly hockey, high as the chilly rocky
so cool they call it c-cky, pockets on [?] [?]
[??????]
full joints of gooey got me
all eyes [?] we should go see my n-gga [?]
bartender [?] [?]
[?????]
my sh-t is candy coated
[???????]
i put that sh-t in drive, i got my money right
[[[[????]]]]]
i put that little money aside

[hook]
[dolce?] on my neck, the [cardiar?] on my sleeve
i [??] on my b-tches, [louie?] boots to her knees
[???] o.g. in the easy, put some smoke in the breeze
[????????] the bullsh-t

[verse 2 sts]
[?] crystallized reefer, potent strain of sativa
doing doobies [?], hitting bowls of the diesel
[?] skirting the regal
[bumping verses from sigel?]
don’t wake my neighbors up, boy, these some conservative people
shin-digging is busy, grinding hash and the sticky
rolling that in the blizzy, filling up my gl-ss to the tippy
shorty flashed me the vickie, rude if i ask for a quickie
i just p-ssed her the ‘l’, and said i be back in a jippy
the ill-strious hit me and held my ambiance
they feel my movement, they dig my renaissance
they want to move with me, be my little confidant
i talk that fly sh-t, hot sh-t that’s what she want
make sure you know my st–z, twenty-three [dng’s?]
excel and polo tee’s, rolling white widow weed
higher than willow trees, ladies be loving my leads
they digging on my fly, but there’s one thing i believe

[hook]

[verse 3 kyle lucas]
i got these haters all salty, i’m laid up by this palm tree
puffing on jumanji got my zoned out like a zombie
and it’s [haunting], not hard to see i know she only wants me
these fire rhymes, these bomb beats get kicked to the curb like concrete
and now i’m with this spanish chick, complexion like ashanti
lays around the pool all day just listening to her r&b
i’m sorry, not hardly, your body makes it hard to leave
but i’m more mobb deep f-ck jon b
i’m offensive now girl pardon me
and slim he hit me on the phone and informed me about this party
scantly cladded women that will double pump my heart beat
hopped up in the whip quicker than liquor hitting my arteries
blew a kiss up to that last chick, i’ll call you, don’t call me
and i’m bad, b-tch, with a bad b-tch
treat baddest like they average
my status; established
these chicks open like catfish
this lifestyle that we living now, d-mn it’s just so lavish
and i smoke the best pineapple express; roll up some of that cabbage
i’m g.o.l.d

- sts lyrics

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