Veeze - tramp Stamp lyrics
Veeze [Karon Malcolm Vantrees] Detroit, Michigan, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Veeze - tramp Stamp lyrics]
(DDot cold as a motherfucker, on God)
Yeah
How I’m gon' leave? How I came in
Fake broke on a bitch 'cause she fake bad
Tried to fuck 'fore I asked what her name is
Airplane mode on a bitch, she ain't say yes
Unlaced Ricks, my mind playin' tricks
Replays of the hoes that I paid to hit
You want a competition, first to catch my attention
Nigga fakin' litty, leave that for the bitches
Fake love all I'm gettin', "Veeze, what's that you sippin'?"
Four of red make my cream soda look like a penny
The drank be callin' me the most when I think 'bout quittin'
Slimeball like P. Diddy, cake walk to get it
Most sons in history, I should be in Guinness
I can't incriminate, I live illegitimate
Need to stop makin' hoes snakes 'fore they kill me
Need to stop makin' promises, I know I live fast
She fuckin' on a famous nigga, I know that pussy wet
You lonely enough to fuck a lame nigga, I feel bad
I'm puttin' it up, my money old just like a grandad
I'm rich enough to put her son in piano actin' classes
I'm the first nigga from my hood with jet lag
I'm a dirty pop king, I'm buyin' Neverland
I'ma go black and white shorts, Everlast
Said she wanna tat, "Veeze," told her, "Tramp stamp it"
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp it"
Said she wanna tat "Veeze", yeah, tramp stamp
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp"
Said she wanna tat "Veeze", uh, tramp stamp
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp"
Yeah
I'm in
I'm in fuck the fame mode, still get the weight gone
I can't wear no Bally, baby, used to be my play clothes
Lot of shit in my blood, but it ain't no hate though
Fuck the TSA though, jet Turks and Caicos
No persistent pay though, broke men hobbies
Kept a four off the pint, pour an Aaron Rodgers
Dog mad he ain't got no damn dollars
She told me every problem while we was havin' lobster
Four damn pockets pokin' out, it's obvious
I'll spend every dollar on a dead body
200k profit, me and Swan Mafia
Lil' bro on the highkey, got exotic broccoli
Blicky got me comfy, Xanny got me confident
Crooked, always plottin', gangster, Bumpy Johnson
Type of nigga see you ballin', wanna foul you
Type of nigga gettin' nowhere, dickridin', gang
(DDot cold as a motherfucker, on God)
Yeah
How I’m gon' leave? How I came in
Fake broke on a bitch 'cause she fake bad
Tried to fuck 'fore I asked what her name is
Airplane mode on a bitch, she ain't say yes
Unlaced Ricks, my mind playin' tricks
Replays of the hoes that I paid to hit
You want a competition, first to catch my attention
Nigga fakin' litty, leave that for the bitches
Fake love all I'm gettin', "Veeze, what's that you sippin'?"
Four of red make my cream soda look like a penny
The drank be callin' me the most when I think 'bout quittin'
Slimeball like P. Diddy, cake walk to get it
Most sons in history, I should be in Guinness
I can't incriminate, I live illegitimate
Need to stop makin' hoes snakes 'fore they kill me
Need to stop makin' promises, I know I live fast
She fuckin' on a famous nigga, I know that pussy wet
You lonely enough to fuck a lame nigga, I feel bad
I'm puttin' it up, my money old just like a grandad
I'm rich enough to put her son in piano actin' classes
I'm the first nigga from my hood with jet lag
I'm a dirty pop king, I'm buyin' Neverland
I'ma go black and white shorts, Everlast
Said she wanna tat, "Veeze," told her, "Tramp stamp it"
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp it"
Said she wanna tat "Veeze", yeah, tramp stamp
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp"
Said she wanna tat "Veeze", uh, tramp stamp
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp"
Yeah
I'm in
I'm in fuck the fame mode, still get the weight gone
I can't wear no Bally, baby, used to be my play clothes
Lot of shit in my blood, but it ain't no hate though
Fuck the TSA though, jet Turks and Caicos
No persistent pay though, broke men hobbies
Kept a four off the pint, pour an Aaron Rodgers
Dog mad he ain't got no damn dollars
She told me every problem while we was havin' lobster
Four damn pockets pokin' out, it's obvious
I'll spend every dollar on a dead body
200k profit, me and Swan Mafia
Lil' bro on the highkey, got exotic broccoli
Blicky got me comfy, Xanny got me confident
Crooked, always plottin', gangster, Bumpy Johnson
Type of nigga see you ballin', wanna foul you
Type of nigga gettin' nowhere, dickridin', gang
(DDot cold as a motherfucker, on God)