corrija a letra Letra Jackson 5 por Hit-Boy

Retornar

Letra

Uh-oh, uh-oh
Ay. ay

Still that b*t*h with all the guys, like Janet and the Jackson 5
Told 'em I'd be rich by twenty-five, now hoes actin' surprised
Made it out to Hollywood, I still ain't lost my ratchet side
B*t*h think she flexin' in that fit, I told her, "Even maggots fly"
Red eye I'm jet laggin' (Jet laggin'), since rode in the band wagon (Band wagon)
New whip, I don't even wanna drive that sh*t, prolly let my mans have it (Skrrt, skrrt)
Folks know I got a Xan habit
If you pull the Glock out, I wouldn't stand by it (Watch out)
This that drip that ain't online, you'll have to go hand buy it
Yeah, A-M-G-6-3, with the window tint, I don't even see no b*t*h (I don't even see no ho)
Know I'm a star I could go bar for bar, I don't even need no hit (Uh-huh)
Princess cut, my diamonds crushed up, had to go bleed my wrist
Neiman Marcus, private shopper, had to double C my fit

Very rare, perfect derriere, I give him hell though
I’m everywhere, Gucci carrier but I don’t sell, dope
Got all these n***as trippin’
Shoe ain’t laced, go switch to velcro
Think you steppin’? Get to poppin’ at your feet
You rockin’ shell toes
Me and mine? We gon’ ride like it’s Universal
Foreign cars outside you b*t*hes ain’t never heard of
Goin’ off everytime and I can tell it hurts ‘em
If you on the other side, I hope you take it personal
I cannot go back and forth with you, I got work to do (Lil' b*t*h)
You don’t have to see me, you gon’ hear me first
Them Perelli's skirting, ooh
Bank account checked up, VVS’d up
B*t*h, I got right now, f**k who next up
I'm so f**kin' dope, I might just make my own strain
How these b*t*hes ain't got clout but tryna make a OnlyFans? (Dummy)
We made it so I'm faded just like when the song ends
I'm so up, next offer I might tell the label, "No, advance"
I ain't tryna make new friends, but I'll let that n***a be my Paypal
Mean muggin' phone like a horn[?]
With some real b*t*hes, we don't fake smile
Pretty as f**k, so whenever he nut, n***a tell me don't put my face down
Slim and Shady, spit it like 8 Mile
B*t*hes only hitting from the waist down

Very rare, perfect derriere, I give him hell though
I’m everywhere, Gucci carrier but I don’t sell, dope
Got all these n***as trippin’
Shoe ain’t laced, switch to velcro
Think you steppin’? Get to poppin’ at your feet
You rockin’ shell toes
Me and mine? We gon’ ride like it’s Universal
Foreign cars outside you b*t*hes ain’t never heard of
Goin’ off every time  and I can tell it hurts ‘em
If you  on the other side, I hope you take it personal
I cannot go back and forth with you, I got work to do (Lil' b*t*h)
You don’t have to see me, you gon’ hear me first
Them Perelli's skirting, ooh
Bank account checked up, VVS’d up
B*t*h, I got right now, f**k who next up

vídeo de música

Seu nome será publicado. Deixe os campos em branco para permanecer anônimo.