Tekst piosenki
Bodega Bamz:
Dis strictly for ma Papi shit, na mean
Pop that pussy fo a papi
Lunch at Noble bring hot saki
Don’t rely on Kawasakis
Only Hayabusas
My bad bitches don’t smoke no hookah hookers be on point
Uncle sam read my lips
Understand you kn, you kn
You know you like bodega bamz
Call me god uncle sham
Pissed em off now they can’t stop me
Knows I got that candy
More i got that mandate
Yo dare me
No Reggie
Only sour shooters, semis
Automatics I got plenty
Loaded Remington
Chill on Lexington
I make these bitches cum
I got your wife eaten sprung
She don’t get no ones
That bird just get these crumbs
I live the life of a jefe
All these workers my songs
What your life bout homie?
Mines, mines real…
DA$H:
Dillinger to Desperado
Skin go like I’m born in Cairo
Pyromaniac
Gettin’ braniac from this formal model
Bottle to my lips
Heavy sips until I piss it out
Kid with clout puttin’ that George Jung in your reming snout
Then I’m up outta there
Homerun, my outer wear
Look like your favorite store front
I step out and they applaud him
Chick is saying they adore him
Posters on their fucking wall
Fuck em all
Then like new years I drop em
Like the fucking ball
Real god like, preachers say I’m
Blasphemous
Clorox on the eyes cuz I don’t mix beef with the rappin’ shit
Money come fast but my body off that activist
Director calling cut for all you niggas out there acting bitch
What your life bout homie?
Mines, mines real…
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