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lirik lagu slim dunkin - take off

[verse 1]
my music down low, but my trunk going humble
hey, p-ssy n-gga mugging, they don’t want no trouble
treat him like a quarterback and then surround him like a huddle
38 up in my lap, that butch sound like thunder
now, let me change the subject, this here about stunting
twenty-eight’s on the chevy, that b-tch green like [?]
and sucker n-gga hating, but all the hoes all love it
hey b-tch, you want a ride? i’ll pull my d-ck out, better suck it
i’m smelling like money and y’all ain’t worth a penny
put some gr-ss on these diamonds, but my face is worth a million
two-hundred on the j’s, but my swag cost a billion
i’m in love with bad b-tches, i done f-cked about a trillion
they say that looks could k!ll and boy, i’m ’bout to make a k!lling
i swag off in the club, these women flocking like pigeons
i ain’t rapping, i ain’t acting, boy, i do this for a living
i need a model b-tch who’s there to taste me like dinner

[hook]
i’m swagged up, i’m iced out
these hoes chewing from the diamonds in my mouth
i’m smoking kush, so hoe, i’m high
i’m taking off ’cause b-tch, i’m fly
b-tch, i’m fly (take off)
b-tch, i’m fly (take off)
b-tch, i’m fly (take off)
b-tch, i’m fly (take off)
b-tch, i’m fly (take off)
b-tch, i’m fly (take off)
b-tch, i’m fly (take off)
b-tch, i’m fly (take off)

[verse 2: slim dunkin]
the club going stupid, so i’ma go r-t-rded
smoke three blunts, oh baby, i’m just getting started
irene kush stinking like a n-gga farted
hey, waka, f-ck flexing, shawty, we stunting
hoes all over the club, i ain’t speaking, they think i’m fronting
’cause if it ain’t ’bout money, b-tch, i ain’t saying nothing
chaz got me by the bar, taking shots, my stomach bubbling
and no, don’t think the southside ain’t [?]
got dae dae outside, busting choppers on some enemies
when them shots rings off of you, you’re dead where you’re standing
we do this every night, so you can’t say that i’m just rap it
got the raw round of applause when you heard them pistols clapping
we came here with five, baby boy, we still fabbin’
i’ll hit you in your chin and leave you flying like aladdin
big b’s in the air, so you know i’m red flagging
i’m leaning on the caddy, so i’m stunting like like my pappy
b-tch

[verse 3: wooh da kid]
who’s whip hotter? ask your chick
’cause when she grip, i think she blew the soul out a n-gga d-ck
you gotta pay for the rest, i ain’t that type of guy
and i would stick around, but i gotta fly
take off, you know i’m in the fast car
swerving in and out your chick like a nascar
one b-tch in the bed, the other on the lap
one blowing the d-ck, the other hold the sack
i ain’t worried ’bout a man, wooh da kid strapped
got your bottom, got your main, put them on the track
a hundred shots in the [?] for the wise guy
since a kid, b-tch, i always been a fly guy

- lirik lagu slim dunkin

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