Scoreboard Lyrics – StanWill

Scoreboard Lyrics by StanWill

One, two, three, four giffies outta Speedway
Five, six, seven Scats racing up the freeway
Eight, nine bands off the scams, it was free pape
Ten f#cking hoes on my dick, b#tch, I need space

Yeah, boy, you better tuck yo b#tch ‘fore we three-way her
For that cheddar, throw more hoes at him than a cheese grater
You’ll never catch my hands out, I don’t need favors
Only thing gang know is shoot, he gon’ think later

Elevation come from separation, I ain’t near these n#gg#s
Painting pictures like I’m van Gogh, don’t wanna hear these n#gg#s
Thousand dollar boy, what you know about Amiri denim?
In the hood, hold on, let me clеar my system

In the hood, we spark his #ss up, hе think he plugged in
Only got the head up off yo b#tch, I only f#ck tens
Funny how if you don’t reach no cover, you get tucked in
Looking through my database, I think I got enough BINs

When the critics label me the GOAT is when I give it up
Yo n#gg# window shopping at the set, b#tch, he ain’t spend a buck
SB, T-double H-L, you ain’t kin to us
When I get rich, the next goal gon’ be rich as f#ck

Ha-ha, yeah, that’s not far though
f#ck around and shoot him like I’m Logan, I’ll spark bro
Future bright as hell but I always had a dark soul
They just getting hip, I always knew that I was part GOAT

I’m worried ’bout the scoreboard, you looking at the shot clock
All these .30 round ARs, this a chop shop
I could f#ck the hoes but the pape always cock-block
Lil’ bro’ll lay down in yo bushes, don’t get drop shot

Gang jumping out with we let Glocks pop
Posted up on n#gg#s’ cross streets, we playing opp watch
If it’s up, boy, this sh#t forever, we do not squash
Turbans on, Drac’d up, he better pray to Allah

Ain’t no midget ’round when I say the .45 by me
Road tripping, hitting every store, f#cking slide out it
Stepping in this b#tch, might f#ck around and break the tile out it
Enterprise rental, know I’m getting every mile out it

Ex b#tch f#cked up thinking that I need hoes
Water, air, and pape, b#tch, I really only need those
Whole gang touching dog sh#t, b#tch, we team goals
f#cking off the boy, you cuffing fiend hoes

Looking like a blessing, when she see me, she gon’ make a wish
Balling out the gym for every time I couldn’t make a swish
Setting plays up for that roll, bro gon’ make the pick
Dog hoes, I’ll chase my tail ‘fore I chase a b#tch

One, two, three, four giffies outta Speedway
Five, six, seven Scats racing up the freeway
Eight, nine bands off the scams, it was free pape
Ten f#cking hoes on my dick, b#tch, I need space

Yeah, boy, you better tuck yo b#tch ‘fore we three-way her
For that cheddar, throw more hoes at him than a cheese grater
You’ll never catch my hands out, I don’t need favors
Only thing gang know is shoot, he gon’ think later
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StanWill Lyrics – Scoreboard

StanWill

Scoreboard