lirik lagu little spoon – bfb da packman
[intro]
(the lunch crew company, i’m part of it)
yeah
you should be proud of me
(the lunch crew company)
[verse]
ayy, my mans just caught a body, he on the news with it
in interrogation lookin’ fabulous, don’t got a clue with him
gucci [?] pants fresh as h*ll with the shoes with ’em
if i love a b*tch, i love a b*tch to death, don’t care who hit it
i’m fresh out of my deal, shoot a proposal, b*tch, it’s reopened
or it’s back to sellin’ pints for the high, i’m a street token
take my shirt off just to f*ck her, let me swim like the beach open
i just nutted, now i got the gummy worm, but i’ma keep strokin’
she suckin’ d*ck all night, i’m the reason that hеr knees swollen
i’m so disgusting, look
i ditched on cotton, i was in my feelings, it all got misspoken
now wе ducked off in houston with two bad b*tches eatin’ lotus
skrrt, pssh, shh, pop, let me switch lanes
street n*gga, i got habits of puttin’ sh*t in my b*tch name
flip*flops, glock in my swimming trunks, ridin’ down biscayne
[?] civil like them skinny n*ggas, but i’m her big bae
indie n*gga, but i’m on these majors’ ass like a sh*t stain
now, just imagine if i was signed to a major label, y’all really couldn’t keep up
a pint of wock’ for a thousand*flat, boy, that sh*t fake
you would never catch me smokin’ on no hookah, boy, that sh*t g*y
four of quagen, pour it up in my fanta case i catch a cold
baby mama caught me cheatin’, put me out but won’t get my clothes
in magic city eatin’ lamb chops, me and sticks malone
i like bad b*tches who pretty and be sniffin’ coke
my dog was my dog, but he turned to a mouse
salo crib so d*mn big, he got drones in the house
make ’em sign an nda, don’t bring no phones in my house
and when i f*ck you from the front, b*tch, moan in my mouth
keyshia ka’oir when you see me ’cause it’s gucci in the front
if she my ho, i upgrade her, put some pucci on my sl*t
hit her right after the club, it smell like coochie in the truck
i like bein’ the little spoon, b*tch, put that coochie on my b*tt
started with a digi’ scale and three*for*tens, you should be proud of me
remember back when fiends was the only hoes that smiled for me
n*ggas have ten or twenty pounds and still won’t spot a g
eat the bacon and the bread and left the n*gga with a put of grease
n*ggas was cold*hearted
real flint n*gga, not from detroit, b*tch, i don’t know martin
quagen got me with a gut, when i don’t got it, i got postpartum
cheated on my b*tch while she was pregnant, now she chrome*hearted
summer walker came out with the new album, got this ho started
d*mn, it’s ’bout to be a long night
my daddy in rehab, he said pray for him, ’cause the dope callin’
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