Made it out the trap
I’m still grippin’ gats
Never slippin’ I’m jus drippin’ in designer, this and that
Big dawg in that kitty cat
Soon as I f#ck they get attached
I guess that’s why they keep askin’ me
“Where all the b#tches at?” (woo, sauce)
Crackin’ this b#tch like its the trap (woo, woo)
Yeah, she like how I’m hittin’ that (woo, boss)
f#ck n#gg# hope I send her back
I guess that’s why he keep askin’ me
“Where all the b#tches at?”
These b#tches lovin’ me, yo’ b#tch want some of me
She bend it over in front of me
She drop it and pick it up, fumble recovery
Bad b#tches keepin’ me company
Her hand in my briefs like she turned in a summary
She be so turnt when she suckin’ me
She swallowed my nut, when I come wipe her mouth
Look back up then she say she ain’t done with me
Ayee
Yo’ baby know I’m a big stepper
She call me [?]
She so into me like a knit sweater
And she good with the brain like a b#tch clever
I turn up in ’em walls like I switch levers
Don’t get jeaulous, get tough and then get stretchered
Choppers spittin’ hot sh#t like it bit peppers
I get paid every punch that’s a chin checker
She put her phone on silent (ayee)
You know I dove inside it (ayee)
He sick as coronavirus
Hate it when she play my songs in private
Whenever I hit her she tell me to choke her
But she don’t condone the violence
I compliment her while my c#ck up in her
I’m like that’s how u posta ride it
Crackin’ this b#tch I ain’t sellin rocks
I made this song for my jealous haters
If you see me in hell, yo’ b#tch gon’ b right there with me
Givin’ me face like I wrestled Vader
He askin’ these questions, his b#tch on my dick
Who the f#ck is this private investigator?
Shoutout to my killers I don’t gotta step
They gon’ slide for me just like an escalator
Made it out the trap
I’m still grippin’ gats
Never slippin’ I’m jus drippin’ in designer, this and that
Big dawg in that kitty cat
Soon as I f#ck they get attached
I guess that’s why they keep askin’ me
“Where all the b#tches at?” (woo, sauce)
Crackin’ this b#tch like its the trap (woo, woo)
Yeah, she like how I’m hittin’ that (woo, boss)
f#ck n#gg# hope I send her back
I guess that’s why he keep askin’ me
“Where all the b#tches at?”
They saw my sauce and now they want my sausage
You’ll think I’m holdin’ ’em hostage
Might hit yo wife like I’m August
Meat in that b#tch like an office
Boy, you ain’t fly like a nauseous
They sick when I drip like a faucet
I don’t give a f#ck bout they ex man
That steel on me like I’m Colossus
Crackin’ his b#tch like a joke
If he say he want smoke then he better be Chris Tucker
Lemon squeeze on my nina when she get to speakin’
Man, I swear it sound like that b#tch stutter
Heat in my pants while I drip butter
‘Bout to cook ’em and I don’t mean fix supper
Watch ’em spring and then fall like they skipped summer
If I ain’t the Rap God, I’m his twin brother
Four b#tches on me, I’m Living Single
I been playin’ with bands like I’m in The Beatles
And man I pray to God, that they don’t hate too hard
I might feel it in hell, like I’m Beanie Sigel
When I drip, b#tches panties get moist again
b#tches on me, it’s annoying him
b#tches feelin’ my circle, it ain’t no question
We look like multiple choice to them
All that b#llsh#t that he talkin, I heard it before
It ain’t sh#t to come kill all that noise again
We pull up on our opps like we hoisting them
All the guns that I got, got no [?] for them
So when you see them hitters pull up with them blickas
Fo’nem get to singin’ like Boyz II Men
They can’t beat me, they gon’ have to poison him
Undefeated, I feel like I’m Floyd to them
Made it out the trap
I’m still grippin’ gats
Never slippin’ I’m jus drippin’ in designer, this and that
Big dawg in that kitty cat
Soon as I f#ck they get attached
I guess that’s why they keep askin’ me
“Where all the b#tches at?” (woo, sauce)
Crackin’ this b#tch like its the trap (woo, woo)
Yeah, she like how I’m hittin’ that (woo, boss)
f#ck n#gg# hope I send her back
I guess that’s why he keep askin’ me
“Where all the b#tches at?”
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate and an Apple Partner, we earn from qualifying purchases
Culcha Candela – In Da City
Set It Off – Tomorrow
Montana Of 300 Lyrics – I Guess That’s Why