lirik lagu phone charged – ishaan the rit god
[verse]
blowing kush blunts on my bad b*tch patio
s*xy b*tch, she be getting freaky just like jackie o
you gossip like a b*tch n*gga, you a big hater
they got they arms folded, like a angry 5th grader
free my cousin danny, he was known for crack chopping
thought he was dancing, cuz he almost made a milli rock
bad b*tch competition, who the top wh0re
i got the b*tches tongue kissing on the top floor
same n*gga jugged a burger out his flooded chain
picked up a pocket full of numbers when the numbers came
back then i ain’t have it and she let me hit
now that b*tch lips tatted on a n*gga d*ck
i got my hustle and i got my daughter mouth to feed
march madness, n*ggas tryna make it to the league
the kitchen hotter than a m*th*ph*kkin slave ship
let that gauge rip, pulling paper til the page rip
i just saw my brother in a old school drop
he was posted with the slabs, soul food spot
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