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lirik lagu fatt macc - freestyle

[intro: fatt macc]
(mm, manny, cook that sh~t up)
yeah

[verse 1: fatt macc]
i can’t even sleep at night, phone still ringin’, old~head knockin’ (on god)
i got on six~thousand dollar jeans, jesus~head chain, went and caught a body (six racks)
i’m on promethazine, codeine, and i just took a half a roxy (real tris)
i ain’t got a cold, but i’m sippin’ tuss, got the styrofoam snotty (on god)
i got a couple thousand for you, b~tch, you hit the road for the kid (sh~t)
i got a couple thousand for you, n~gga, you hit the block with the switch (frrt)
mix the pai with the tuss, n~gga, you ain’t never did this sh~t here before (i’m high as a b~tch)
brother came in the clutch, got a gold stack, bet it on the ten or four (rich)

[verse 2: ytb fatt]
nine lams and my bucket (mm)
make the b~tch f~ck me and my brother (skyami slidin’)
that bee bentley buzzin’
bake this cake, put the p~ssy in the oven
make a million poppin’ sh~t, nothin’ like this
she suck my d~ck, must like how my ice hit
white thick b~tch kinda like kylie jenner
i’m front row bet like backend
war stories, ain’t goin’ for it, can’t do it
grab my guns out the pond, you f~ck with me
f~ck that cream soda, come drop a deuce in it
i got the mids, you gon’ care about me, f~ck with me
i could put my name on it, come turn your trap up
hundred ‘bows gone, n~gga can’t f~ck with me
bad b~tch in ‘lac truck, lap up
make love to a muslim b~tch, she indian
[verse 3: fox bd]
i could see myself big as f~ck in a year, flew right past, this my opinion
this a ten~hour drive, got dope in this car, can’t smoke weed, know i’m a g~nius (i’m bd)
them n~ggas tried to come around gang for mentions, mouth closed like ferb and phineas (that sh~t weak)
it’s cold as f~ck, the snitches wrappin’ up, camera all the business (i’m scared)
it’s get down or lay down, foxes comin’ like suge knight and beanie siegel (frrt, frrt)
my biggest pet peeve hangin’ with new n~ggas, scared they play with beepers (uh, no phones)
couldn’t afford no tris back then, ain’t throwin’ sh~t away, empty bottles, i keep ’em (huh, on trill)
you can’t put your mouth on my cup, you don’t even brush your t~~th, heard your sh~t be lethal

[outro]
(start the b~tch over, carl)

- lirik lagu fatt macc

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