Chill Bump - Five lyrics

Bitch, you got a lot of balls
For a small no name you're so lame
You claim you God, you Kanye on cocaïne
Yo, you will not blow my mind bitch
I am not Cobane
Your dame is known for blowing sacks
We call her John Coltrane
You sling hashish in back streets
Count cash off bitches ass cheeks
In backseats of flashy whips
You finna give pigs a bakchich (Trash)
You rap to get the mass to think you're nasty
But, you're snitching on your own silly ass
You Brendan Dassey and we ain't shook
(Why?) because you ain't Suge (Knight)
Who would write about their crimes
Besides the fake crook (Type?)

You like to pose with broads
For a facebook like
While I bang broads and can't recall
What their face look like
I pipe your wifey like a
(hoe) , slap the bitch and chant (yolo)
I like her and tapped her
Twice like an instagram photo
You can rip my damn polo
Snatch my silver Han Cholo
But, you can't hate on my game
Or diss a man's mojo
So get angry if you want, kid
I won't get the damn popo
But don't lift your hands (bro)
Your fists they tend to land slow mo
I'm a Skinny man but when
Mad I'll whip your fam (dolo)
Stomp my soles on your throat
And stamp a Timberland logo

Word to the motherfucking tree on my Tim
Word to the motherfucking tree on my Tim
Word to the motherfucking tree on my Tim
Word to the motherfucking tree on my Tim