ShittyBoyz - Punch It lyrics

Yeah, I yeah, yeah

I got a Glock but I'll beat yo ass
Seen a lot of hate out the
Opps but ain't seen no cash
Told that lil' bitch, "Toot it up
Let me see yo ass"
I might get lost in my drip
I got Nemo splash
Huh, make it splash, feel like Chris Smoove
She ain't got that super soaker on her
Made that bitch move
She cannot pronounce the brand
She said I got big shoes
I got yellow and white diamonds
I can mix jewels

Ksubi jeans skinny, ain't my dick
It's a blicky
Heron Preston now out of Saks
Ain't no Dickies
If they sending shots then I'm shooting
Take 'em with me
Hitting chip readers like Blake Griffin
Banging giffies
Fifteen hunnid get you gone, boy
That's three giffies
If you ain't ShittyBoyz
You can't even fucking breathe with me
Three hunnid dollar plate
Kinda make it hard to eat with me
Bro made a hit first day
Out like he Tee Grizzley

I don't like really known to
Get the head then dip
I ain't even ask my mixtape
Ain't even have a skip
I ain't even playing, have yo mama yelling
Pull up in the night
Let it sing like we brought the Pips
Huh, y'all ain't even hip
When I get bored or irritated
I'ma take a trip huh, that ain't even this
Brought The Undertaker for the niggas
Think I'm throwing fists

I ain't ever really been broke
I can't reminisce
Think I came out my mama ass
'cause I been the shit
I ain't ever had a nine-to-five
I been scamming shit
Rack after rack after rack
On some tennis shit

I eat too much hibachi, my stomach hurt
If it ain't the chip reader
Show you how them hunnids work
Put a BIN on his fucking head
I just punched his hearse
You got that lil' bitch pregnant
But I fucked her first

Nah, for real though
Know some pistol popping dreadheads
They don't steal though niggas still broke
Told baby put the tip in and she still choke

Funny how if I up stick, I'll stick him up
You can tell I don't lift weights
But I'll lift him up
Bust a fanny pack open
Bitch said I'm rich as fuck
Waiter brought me out the wrong drink
I ain't tip him nothing
Bro turned the lil' Fiji
Water into Coca-Cola
Keep two sticks, I'm a PS4 controller

Bitch foreign, look like Dora
King bed, roll her over
Get the head off that lil' bitch
Then I'm gonna ignore her
Yeah, it's a Air Force day
Carry-on full of za like
What the airport say? I be at Ruth Chris
Two hunnid every fourth play
He ain't got a car
Seen him running to his court day

Smoking Cookie, real Cookie
You don't even know the taste
Money calling, speeding to it
I don't even hit the brakes
Dirty chill day, I ain't even wanna stay
Cut into her, hell nah
I know yo ass ain't hitting vapes
I don't Crip but the pockets stay with blues
Want some clout? We gon' put him on the news
Was a drought, now my old bitches choose
Like a Twix, all my hoes come in twos