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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
F*ck Pusha T and anybody that love him His head up his ass, I'ma have to head-butt him Gut him, Lil Tunechi sh*t, weak stomach It's me, LT, like when you heat butter Old pussy in a can, red is the flag F*ck with me wrong I'll put your head in your hands There'd be blood everywhere, I got bloods everywhere I'm a alien, I hope you ain't the Prince of Bel Air That's real n*gga talk, these n*ggas speechless Cut off his arm and leg like I charge for my features Hammer on my side like I work in construction Your b*tch hit that head so hard we get concussions N*ggas can't see me, not even a glimpse Too many banana clips, I feel like chimps South Beach b*tch and I tan line stupid You could find me on Collins like Bootsy I ain't on no f*ck sh*t, I be on that Truk Fit Your girl do tongue tricks and you sweeter than one six All I ever see is Ben Franklin face I chase the bank, I don't bank with Chase You f*ckin' with some n*ggas that'll murk y'all N*gga you softer than a motherf*ckin' Nerf ball Bird call, brr, what happened to that boy? He was talkin' sh*t, we put a clap into that boy Tunechi! |