a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

lirik lagu fatt macc & k carbon - just because

[intro]
(48hz)

[verse 1: k carbon & fatt macc]
mansion party in cal’, calabasas on b~tches’ ass like balabasas (like what?)
p~ssy sweet like lefty taffy, we hand out l’s, don’t get caught lackin’ (on god)
off the red~eye, straight to traffic, puttin’ belt straight to b~tches— (hahaha, brrt, brrt, brrt, come on)
puttin’ belt straight to b~tches’ ass
these n~ggas come and go, my trap still roll, i’m still gon’ stack my dough (on god)
streets know i’m that b~tch, onew thing for sure, can’t treat me like no ho (uh~uh, uh~uh)
and we take n~ggas out like they ordered this beef sh~t to go (let’s go)
gettin’ this pape’ make my shoulder lean, you’ll think i was bumpin’ drake (on god)

[verse 2: fatt macc]
california bossin’ over dinners (phew), bad b~tches, lot of love for ’em (bad b~tches out of love)
took some l’s but i’m still winnin’, turn myself into your plugs plug (turn myself into your plug)
i just bust a jugg with some thick sh~t (yeah), exotic ‘bows got my wrist lit (on god)
you ain’t one of mine, get your b~tch hit (yeah), i put all my opps on a sh~t list (f~ck it)
got a brown b~tch lookin’ like a tiger, hundred thousand up and i ain’t even lyin’ (b~tch)
this ho all water like a fire fighter, rollie thirty thousand, it don’t tell time (on god)
all cash, we don’t do the strikers, chopper on me, i look like a biker
ate, ate, ate the b~tch up like a sniper (yeah), but she gotta be at least a dime (on god)
real gangster, put that on the bible, play with fatt, one of them n~ggas dyin’ (yeah)
cheated on her, she don’t be outside (yeah), wanna see the kid, i wanna see her spine (on god)

[verse 3: k carbon & fatt macc]
i got sh~t for sale, don’t call this phone unless you buyin’ (the f~ck?)
told him i can’t see a future with him no more, i went blind (i can’t see it)
i ain’t the type to cuff you, no way, ho, go catch up with your kind
ain’t gon’ tell no n~gga i love him, well, i probably did, but i be lyin’ (hahaha)
chains ’round my neck, hittin’, swingin’, swingin’, hittin, they fightin’ (yeah, yeah)
got glocky in the booth, right now, i’m just in here rhymin’ (i stamp that)
and i can’t put no title on what we is, you might get too entitled (yeah)
and i don’t even like you, you just got a lil’ money or whatever
won’t catch me without my shooter, that’s like watchin’ ken with no metal (what the f~ck?)
man, tris on the soda like he been watchin’ ken and kell (like what?)
everything b~tches do, non~profit, they should work for the man (bro)
and i don’t ask him ’bout no other b~tch at all, he know i keep it plain (trap, deep)
[chorus: fatt macc]
diamonds dancin’ like a ballerina (alright), pots spinnin’, i just cooked the dub (phew)
trap hotter than a jalapeno (on god), your hood was hot ’til i made it flood (flood)
left pocket filled with nothin’ but blues, n~gga was a fan ’til i hit it good (i’m crip)
trap n~gga, still’ll f~ck a scrub, i’ma shut up on them n~ggas just because (trap)
diamonds dancin’ like a ballerina (on god), pots spinnin’, i just cooked the dub (phew)
trap hotter than a jalapeno (on god), your hood was hot ’til i made it flood
left pocket filled with nothin’ but blues, n~gga was a fan ’til i hit it good (i’m crip)
trap n~gga, still’ll f~ck a scrub, i’ma shut up on them n~ggas just because (f~ck it)

- lirik lagu fatt macc k carbon

Lirik lagu lainnya:

LIRIK YANG LAGI HITS MINGGU INI