ShittyBoyz - 4-Peat lyrics
[ShittyBoyz - 4-Peat lyrics]
(Helluva made this beat, baby)
Three fit's, seven hunnid, bitch
These some Yeezy steps
He ain't got no blick, full court
That's a easy press squared up with Tron
Hit his ass with a sneaky left
Ran it up for 'bout a week
I done got sleep depressed
Glock a motherfucker
Hitting everything the beam detect
Louis V runners on
I done turned my feet to chess
Punch God, Jack Man, bitch, I'm a Visa vet
Riding 'round looking rough as
Hell like you DMX
We gon' leave the opposition
Bleeding like they PMS
If you pull up perky, end up lеaving in a EMS
Lied to the bitch
Told her that I only chеat on tests
Lil' slut said I need a heart, bitch
I need yo neck high as hell with the gang
Ain't no pizza left
I done caught up to them bitches
I been dreaming less
I done got tired of the hoes
I been fiending less
When all you see is the money
You don't see no rest
I could up some big-ass racks
You ain't see no breasts
Boy, you ain't a 'rilla
Couple 223s beat yo chest
Hutch lost his motherfucking mind
Don't you see my neck?
Really got the green out the mud, bitch
I think I'm Shrek
Bitch told me that I'm not shit
What did you expect?
Feeling like a chill day
Think I wanna do the tech head so good
Lil' bitch got her cheeks caressed
I'll tell my niggas mask up, bitch
I think I'm Gretch
Been did the radio, we might be on TV next
On a jack trip, card play for the GPS
Choppa fold 'em like a 3DS
She a lil' headhunter
You ain't even see the mess
Punching all month off a piece
Made the CC stretch
Off PUA, now he think he fresh
Money gram, 2016, stayed at CVS
Got the Purple jeans on, my habibi wet
Diamonds look like lemonade
Wocky in the Minute Maid
All I wanted was the money
I ain't never want the fame
Hitting bitches off the thrust
I ain't in the spitting game bro clutching
He gon' shoot like he tryna win the game
Bitch, I'm big tripping
Change gears when I'm switching lanes
Spin his block in the wintertime
That's a figure eight when you feed niggas
They gon' ask you for a bigger plate
If you ask me
We the coldest group in the state
Three fit's, seven hunnid, bitch
These some Yeezy steps
He ain't got no blick, full court
That's a easy press squared up with Tron
Hit his ass with a sneaky left
Ran it up for 'bout a week
I done got sleep depressed
Glock a motherfucker
Hitting everything the beam detect
Louis V runners on
I done turned my feet to chess
Punch God, Jack Man, bitch, I'm a Visa vet
Riding 'round looking rough as
Hell like you DMX
We gon' leave the opposition
Bleeding like they PMS
If you pull up perky, end up lеaving in a EMS
Lied to the bitch
Told her that I only chеat on tests
Lil' slut said I need a heart, bitch
I need yo neck high as hell with the gang
Ain't no pizza left
I done caught up to them bitches
I been dreaming less
I done got tired of the hoes
I been fiending less
When all you see is the money
You don't see no rest
I could up some big-ass racks
You ain't see no breasts
Boy, you ain't a 'rilla
Couple 223s beat yo chest
Hutch lost his motherfucking mind
Don't you see my neck?
Really got the green out the mud, bitch
I think I'm Shrek
Bitch told me that I'm not shit
What did you expect?
Feeling like a chill day
Think I wanna do the tech head so good
Lil' bitch got her cheeks caressed
I'll tell my niggas mask up, bitch
I think I'm Gretch
Been did the radio, we might be on TV next
On a jack trip, card play for the GPS
Choppa fold 'em like a 3DS
She a lil' headhunter
You ain't even see the mess
Punching all month off a piece
Made the CC stretch
Off PUA, now he think he fresh
Money gram, 2016, stayed at CVS
Got the Purple jeans on, my habibi wet
Diamonds look like lemonade
Wocky in the Minute Maid
All I wanted was the money
I ain't never want the fame
Hitting bitches off the thrust
I ain't in the spitting game bro clutching
He gon' shoot like he tryna win the game
Bitch, I'm big tripping
Change gears when I'm switching lanes
Spin his block in the wintertime
That's a figure eight when you feed niggas
They gon' ask you for a bigger plate
If you ask me
We the coldest group in the state
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