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21.1
by
21spendexx
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Lyrics
Mic check, 1-3-1-2 It’s that c**t 21, from the 312 He Sun Zhu, and I got 'em asking me, “um, dude How the f**k is everyone still sleeping on you?”, I’m like I don’t f**kin’ know, bro Pu**y fat and pink, so I call it f**kin’ Slowpoke No joke, have that fling, disappear like Roanoke So soaked, grab yo hoe and bada bing she ghost ya Oh no! Did I f**k your bae again You call me the Spuillotine, took that f**king maidenhead Lady spread and laid in bed, I’ll poke in a jiffy Yo hoe been giving different strokes to different folks in different cities Chasing money, sh*t She tryna get chummy with the clique, I said Not By The Hair On My Dummy Fat D**k And if that tummy have a kick, imma abort that sh*t Support no kid, .44 to your forehead if You talking this sh*t, that sh*t D**k on her lips like Chapstick Requiem for a bean, I’m a pu**y addict Snackin’ on a clit, till she look a little frail, and Then I shove the package through the slit like a mailman Don’t doubt me Adele wrote a whole album about me Call me Excalibur cause I don’t pull out These hoes tryna shoot they shot but I’m a different f**king caliber I ain’t an NES, boy, don’t be playing Galaga "How you always kickin’ it bro?" Cause 21 got soul, so much that the soul got 21 She left you for guess who? I Tappman And you can catch-22, but you know you can’t catch 21 I hit and I bust like it’s blackjack And your girl playing too, shame on you She tryna get that 21 B*t*h busty, a bit lusty, and trust me I’m a ten with a 9, that’s why, they always call me 21 Twenty Uh One more than a score finna score withcha w**** She on her knees for the sausage - Boar on the Floor I’m in the cut like Neosporin, b*t*hes call me Dumbledore Cause I’m the head master, kill the pu**y like a cat abortion I get the bag and I ain’t humble with the bundle Show off these dead presidents like the Capitol rotunda Bring the thunder when I give her the clap and genital herpes I get more brain than John F. Kennedy’s car seat And I won’t take no L, but I’d more than like the BJ Call ACB and AOC, we’ll organize a three-way To tell the truth about the dame, I bet I made her chin hurt She blew till she was dead, Ruth Bader Ginsberg South Bent over and the Dome was Golden Righty tighty when we screw, then I’m nuttin’ and boltin’ Penicillin ill, mental with a pencil, my sh*t essential And your dogs all f**k with me like I’m that b*t*h from Central My b*t*h bad like the state of the economy She back that a** up and then place that pu**y onto me She fond of me, she fondle me, swallowing my progeny Follows my lead, and I give her that marrow and mahogany, y’all Biting my sh*t, coprophagy would suit ya Boy you, taking the L like Chicago commuters My city ride with me, why, the kiddie like a Divvy Bike Itty-bitty tyke, leave 'em dizzy like their middy might This week this girl can’t remember my name Next week I’ll be on the tip of her tongue This my Century Going ember to flame Paleo, against the grain he go Get d**ked It’s 21
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