Father feat. Slug Christ - Private Show (feat. Slug Christ) текст песни

Текст песни Private Show (feat. Slug Christ) - Father feat. Slug Christ




Woah, woah, woah, woah
Woah, woah, woah, woah
Woah, woah, woah, woah
Yeah, check my swag bitch, know I look like Kim K
Okay, okay, okay, okay
Slug God
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Check my sauce, I'm glowing 'cause I feel so good today
Your bitch want a private show, she want a serenade
Okay, now, flew out from Atlanta, now I stay out in L.A
The metaphysics of this drip is stupid booty
I secure the bag and then I step up off the porch
Walk into the jungle and I walk it out, no cap
I can sense a disturbance inside the fuckin' forest, bitch
What you wanna know? 'Cause I got
Burdens, oh no (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Drooped on this ho and broke her knees, her ankles bent like plastic
Somethin' 'bout when I'm off that juice, my dude, my drip majestic
Treat the stocks like trading cards, can't have my holographics
Phone on the table, my girls love the park, I keep 'em grass-fed
Picnic, we kick this shit, her ass swing like pop shove-it
Get my dick licked, she with the shit, shawty just love cocksucking
She just love me when I'm off the shits, I'm sober, this bitch urk me
All my diamonds wet like Fergie, this bitch just is just not worthy
I get the broccoli, break it all up
I cannot take it, enough is enough
I put the bags in the back of a truck
I take the bag and I chop it all up
Chop it all up, puttin' the bags in the back of the trunk, ayy
Chumbawamba on a bitch, ayy
Eat a taco then I dip, ayy
Bitch, go raise your kids, ayy
Bitch, go get some money, ayy
Don't spend it on yourself, ayy
And quit tryna talk to me, yeah
Flex on the economy (Yeah)
Fuck the economy, ayy
I need lobotomy (Woah)
Or a bottle in front of me, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ayy, scary nigga, I'm a spooky black
You should probably let your nigga's ass watch
Every time a nigga move on the block
Crackers pull up with that burning cross
I'm cold like Minnesota
Hidden code, look at this Montblanc watch
Nah, nigga, this drip don't stop
If I was real, boy, I might go pop
Yeah, I think I'm Kenan, think I'm all that
Bitch wanted me to hold the door
I did that ho just like a doormat
Pulled my dick out her vagina and I came all on her thorax
Every time I step outside, I think I change the fuckin' forecast
Yeah
Pew, pew, pew, pew
Pew, pew, pew, pew
Pew, pew, pew, pew
Run it up, run it up
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah



Авторы: Nate Donmoyer, Centel Orlando Mangum, Charles Paul Bell



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