lirik lagu skillz - fatty girl freestyle
f-ckin’ with sk!llz, you gon’ meet ya doom
n-gga i spit fire that make dragons wanna leave the room
i put va on the map, open the south
when i spit, b-tches open up they legs or they mouth
and ya mans wanna battle, but i ain’t let him
i dont know who can see me, cuz i ain’t met ’em
man these cats ain’t thugs they fools
i take ya bandana, wet it, pop you with it like we did at the pool
when i start smakin’ n-ggas they gonna see who rule
cats callin’ tawkus up like “i thought he was cool!”
yall reefer seeds, i’m a block of raw
and when i spit the words, they lock the jaw
and i plan to win, when i bomb the sound
so a if thats ya mans and them, calm ’em down
i warned you clown, i’m heatin’ up in degrees
i have you singin’ bout fallin’ like alica keys
man these f-ckers and ballers, they scrubs
first muh’f-cker tried to sneak a slerpie in the club
ya not “supa”, we ain’t close to friends
and i throw away dubs like broke the rims
you gotta be twins, you look as broke as him
when i get in the game, expect a broken rim
i’m a shot caller, with no excuse to brawl
got well known rappers wishin’ they could shoot ball
you at ya mans house, bald with shoes
i’m on some rims that go backward when the car dont move
b-tch at the light, i thought i stopped her heart
she saw the wheels, got scared threw her car in park
i’m the type that has bet seein’ me as a threat
you the type to tuck the coogie down in ya sweats
p.diddy run the city, thats his claim to fame?
if he moved to va, he’d change his name
i dont like rappers, stay out of my sight
if i give you dap, you better use that hand to write
yo the words i spit, could charge ya whip
i let yall talk sl!ck, but thats as far’s its gets
you ain’t gotta gun, you ain’t gon blast the 8
you a punk, you got ya hype man -ss in ya face
ask around, i’m a basket case
i got words that make a n-gga in a casket shake
what the h-ll you gonna tell me kid
i get ya chick in ya crib, like i was kelly and you was mr. biggs
pull off and bust on her back
tell ya -ss yo, goto the studio and rap about that
n-ggas talk how they flow so well
but they hooks be garbage, guess what you ain’t gon’ sell
i’m east but i’m slightly south
n-gga i got jordans that’ll make mike cus nike out
but when i’m jig, you got to feel me
the gators so live the crocodile hunter tried to k!ll me
i told him, “steavy dont even try it.”
slapped him with the pistol and said “be very quiet”
i ain’t got time for yall
two way me with letters dog, cuz i ain’t got time to call
if you drop on my tuesday, you won’t win
put a chip in ya phone, call a million of ya friends
tell ’em to cop it again, make sure its in the mall
play russian rullet until ya manager call
belive me dog, cuz i’m real
you built to spit but you ain’t built to spit with sk!llz
i’m the best that ever did it cuz
i ain’t gotta get nate on a hook to give westcoast love
i strut through any hood
i was f-ckin’ in miami, yall was down there duckin’ suge
so tell me whats good, what ya life be bout
suge got you shook, f-ck you doin’ shoutin’ him out?
you ain’t down, start slidin’ n-gga
i already gave you pound, stop d-ck ridin’ n-gga
you a grown man you need to stop it
sk!llz represent, buy the album when i drop it
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