paroles de chanson Wheel of Fortune (feat. Icewear Vezzo) - ShittyBoyz
BabyTron]
ShittyBoyz
On
the
road
for
thirty
days
and
thirty
nights
No
punches
through
this
bitch,
doing
thirty
fights
Circled
on
the
opp
block,
we
hit
thirty
[?]
Looking
at
my
future
like
you
staring
up
at
thirty
lights
Don't
ask
what's
in
the
cup,
don't
you
see
me
with
the
Drank
God?
Don't
ask
do
it
hit,
don't
you
see
me
with
the
Punch
God?
Tapped
in,
get
a
nigga
touched
like
a
iPod
She
wanna
make
a
movie,
set
the
cam
on
the
tripod
Punching
like
a
black
belt,
I'm
a
card
master
Emotionless,
I'll
leave
a
bitch
heart
shattered
Good
cap
on
the
'Gram,
you're
a
star
actor
In-store
fire,
bitch,
I'm
flaming
like
I'm
Charmander
Yeah,
pop
a
school
bus,
I'm
a
[?]
Big
chop
that'll
knock
a
nigga
car
backwards
Two
beams
on
a
Glock
like
car
hazards
Drank
God,
bitch,
I'm
balling
like
March
Madness
With
all
this
energy,
boy
must
be
Duracell
For
all
the
grannies
that
I
jugged,
I
might
burn
in
Hell
Brought
the
slides
in
store,
that's
the
burning
smell
Let
me
get
this
Fraud
Bible,
boy,
it's
working
well
No
cap,
this
bin
gon'
put
my
niggas
all
on
She
ain't
sucking
dick,
she
should
spin
and
send
her
ass
home
[?]
I
can't
wait
till
Apple
drop
them
iPhones
She
a
real
freak,
she
don't
do
it
with
the
lights
on
Gang
sliders
cranked
up,
I
done
found
the
glitch
D1
with
the
punch
work,
come
and
scout
the
kid
In
BOA
acting
bad,
boy,
I'm
counting
slips
Life
jacket
underneath
the
fit,
I
might
drown
in
drip
So
much
water
on
my
neck,
I
might
drown
the
bitch
Greyhound,
only
time
that
I
hound
a
bitch
Finna
do
a
turn
around
for
right
now
and
a
six
What's
that
stanking
in
my
pocket?
A
pile
of
shit
Money
on
the
floor,
I'm
spinning
hoes
like
the
Wheel
of
Fortune
Spikes
on
my
toes,
you
a
crumb,
boy,
you
still
in
Jordans
What
you
pay
for
your
fit
was
my
bill
in
Morgans
Even
when
I'm
six
feet
deep
but
I'm
still
important
You
ain't
getting
money,
you
just
be
where
the
rappers
be
I
better
not
catch
you
lame
ass
niggas
where
the
bitches
be
I
ain't
got
a
heart,
I
just
like
to
wear
it
on
my
tee
Middle
finger
to
them
lame
niggas
that
ever
doubted
me
Feel
like
Lil
Tecca,
I
just
help
an
opp
for
ransom
Grabbed
the
jacks
and
disappeared,
I
am
not
a
phantom
SB
blasting
off,
boy,
your
rocket
landing
Pull
up
like
I'm
Stone
Cold,
let
the
choppa
slam
him
Think
I'm
shooting
videos,
how
I'm
copping
cannons
Finna
pour
the
Hi-Tech,
hold
the
Wock
for
ransom
I
don't
be
fucking
with
no
rats,
niggas
[?]
Me
and
[?]
dropped
a
eighth
in
a
drop
of
Fanta,
bitch
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