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lirik lagu sparkyfin - wild child

[chorus]

white girls, goin’ wild./
been at trash can, and livin’ buckwild./
get crazy and wild./
gb and wicked wild, child./
all night, i can drive, you wild./
off rip as a l!ckle child./
hey ladieeees!! yo wild, child…/

[verse 1]

what place is this? this is oomp camp, b~tch./
whether broke or you’re rich./
winding up, here comes the pitch./
underground guys whof ain’t a flop b~tch./
addin’ up chips, a motherf~cker tryin to get rich./

[chorus]

white girls, goin’ wild
been at trash can, and livin’ buckwild
get crazy and wild
gb and wicked wild, child
all night, i can drive, you wild
off rip as a l!ckle child
hey ladieeees!! yo wild, child… motherf~cker
[verse 2]

hannibal lector style my dinner’s served./
showed me what i deserved./
manifest the message, lessons involved./
manipulate thе earth that you formerly beliеved./
never thought you’d choose the ways that judas paved./
for i was, my father son, hallowed and only beloved./
to enter through the gates ya gotta gotta be saved./
yo, truer lyrics were praised, the listeners craved./

(yo’, you see those two guys around there?)

(yeah?)

(they invited me to party!)

(really?)

(yeah, yeah.)

(they invited me too?)

(no.)

(hey? what the f~ck?)
i’ma keep it goin’ i’m elevated, i’m dedicated, i’m feelin’ amazin’ i’m smokin’ the plan i feel jamaican./

i walk in your cd’s./

people are talkin’ about me but shout~out to p. diddy./
give aids to you i’ll be with it./

lookin’ at the crowd and i feelin’ so super naughty they give me your freaking topic i’m really rapping about it./

keeping the company back in the city and i really be workin’ a pretty comfy like everyday mr. macafee record a thirty golden all day like a who ya top in a gamin’ yeah i love it./ y’all remember me some video when i don’t blow it./

i’m gonna tell you ’bout the life that i gotta get./
whole lot of views and 2025 i get rich./

this is real music./
so they repeated i’m grabbin’ the mic and i use it./
rappers they stupid, no i’m not lil pump or tekashi they really is f~cking stupid./

wait, that was that gang that i love./
i wish a cat would try to rob me for my dollar signs in my eyes./
walk up in his crib my street is kind like the columbine./

(rraah, rraah)

i’m gonna lay them down on the ground./
(uh)

keep that sh~t open if i can appeal the homie in the back./
keep diggin’ the rap, i’m k!llin’ a chap./
you know those s~xual harrasment pedophilics on instagram and snapchat./

if you gonna google me, i never been no f~cking foolery./
i have a couple of glocks and ak’s in my lockery./
are you talking about my jewelry./
i hate california and i’m gonna be in history./ uncle portland oregon, i never gonna make a single beat./

hands on the deck, then i’m feelin’ right./
i got a big brother and his name is dizzy wright./
i’m in studio light, every night./
and i’m from finland and there is livery straight./
i’m gonna be savino kind./

(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

yeah! i’m a product of a broken home./
who is where took ’em grove./
los angeles, compton gang member leave you when i find gold./
stick into the strip from in the cast like a open book./
meet me at the deli wheat bread info alone./

cash in my pocket, sell crack for the profit./
four b~tches when i get it desk cash i deposit, loose cash in my wallet./

[chorus]

[verse 3]

(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

i’m fly, i’m high./
count to five./
hopped out whipping drive./
i talk my sh~t and slide./
i wait for the big drop./

gang sh~t, my hang sh~t./

i have all of lil pump’s b~tches right?/
bad b~tches start dancin’ right?/
i’ve got like i’m lance and i fight./

everybody says i’m dork./
stab them with a fork./
such k!ll, i’m ill, i~a~e all i do is hit the board

(ay)

i can make computers survive aquatic, conditions i’m feeling you./
with appending mixtape that only seems like a myth./
now most kids can’t figure the f~dg~, they can’t deal with./
the sh~t, equipped with stress, regrets and visions./
keys cats flip, call them fradulent they plead that fifth./

all that sh~t..f~ck you fool,../
sweatin my jewels but it’s cool./
first thing, flippin over dollars, searching./
i knock on the door with my ring~ring./

proof of prophecies script in sand./
i’m comin, mom, two .50 cal’s in hand./
i f~ck wit’ only real thugs./
i’ll probably fry with my sl~ts./

f~ck the stupid hoes who be playin’ on yo phone look./
and they were just like your mom’s favorite recipe book./
first up you got the jack of spades./
for decades, i infect aids to rap brigades./

- lirik lagu sparkyfin

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