Lyrics Jamaica - Damedot

Every chance I get,
I gotta tell her she the shit
Outta town trips it's just me and my loyal bitch
She was right there when my ns played on the fence
This shit we got is 1000 ain't no hit or miss
Swear I just wanna see you up wanna see you rich
Hate when you listen to your friends that shit make me sick
You need to get some boss bitch friends cause they ain't on shit
Soon as I land babe give me kiss
You can get whatever these hoes they ain't gettin' shit
Go get two bags and some shoes with the matching print
You can get a Louis V Yorkie to match the fit

I feel like I owe you everything that you ever want
Got all the reasons to leave but you never don't
I said I love them hoes but I really don't
You and my son really what my heart really beating for
Let's take a trip to Jamaica

I can't promise hoes they gon' want me I'm a real player
All the hoes mad cause you got me they some real haters
Dior, Chanel I got real flavours
I can't get her wig snatched I got real paper
She ain't playin' with a bag that's a deal breaker
Ooh she pretty with no ass but I still take her
Ooh I hit em with the band send him to his maker
They wanna lock me up think I'm a pill maker
I fuck her on the camera I'm a film maker
This wok and this cream taste like annihilator
(This shit taste crazy)
I skip went straight into the pussy n I don't date her
You want some black dame 200 for a 8er
I might go to chase but I'm not gon' chase her
My lil bitch came from Indiana like a pacer
She don't wanna talk 'les it's bout some paper
Flip flops came from Gucci with the matching socks
Got purple lenses in my buffs just to match the walk
N this 2020 so I gotta matching Glock
Pour it up with two hoes like I'm matching Thots
Bitch gave me the red card I done maxed it out
Up that picture on the gram I done xed her out
Whole lotta bullshit bows that's my Texas route

Fuck chalk plays we gon' sketch you out
Bitch let me in that pussy I'ma stretch you out
Fuck you by the front door then I'ma let you out
Bitch head one shit she gon let me down
I got the fen and her with me they ain't pat me down
Graduated from the streets I need a cap and gown
I was the shit back then bitch look at me now
She used to sit on my dick she can't stand me now
I gave a strap to my brother that's a hand me down

I feel like I owe you everything that you ever want
Got all the reasons to leave but you never don't
I said I love them hoes but I really don't
You and my son really what my heart really beating for
Let's take a trip to Jamaica

I can't promise hoes they gon' want me I'm a real player
All the hoes mad cause you got me they some real haters
Dior, Chanel I got real flavours
I can't get her wig snatched I got real paper
She ain't playin' with a bag that's a deal breaker
Ooh she pretty with no ass but I still take her
Ooh I hit em with the band send him to his maker