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lirik lagu superbowl – lb spiffy

[intro]
(spiffy records)
(tony parker)
skurr*skurr

[chorus: lb spiffy]
throw them packs on the block just like super bowl
count the racks up, make sure it look beautiful
your shawty see in the drip, of course she gon’ do the bro’s
get the racks, count it up like it’s nothing
hit your b*tch, then i tip her like london
we had nothing, but turned that to something
on the block we got sticks like we hunting (skurr*skurr)

[verse 1: lb spiffy]
your b*tch wan’ f*ck ’cause she see i’m poppin’
these n*ggas ain’t buying sh*t, yeah, they just window shopping
on the block i be counting green just like boston
got me feeling like irving
she wan’ f*ck all this money we earning
all my n*ggas maskеd up like they purging
talking sh*t, yeah, thеy might just pop out the suburban

[verse 2: hoodbaby peppa]
talking sh*t, yeah, we might just pop out, and go burn him
i lost some guys, so i’m thinking ’bout redum
h*llcat we swerving, or a suburban
bro got a thirty, bet we gon’ merk him
my p*ss be dirty, sipping on wok
and she wanna slurp ’cause drip i talk
get him gone, he deceased
i go hard for my peeps
oh god, i popped three
i seen bodies, ain’t a fiend
it get scary on the grandravine
swear i ain’t answer enemies
don’t get tagged, you know you getting freezed
best watch your head back, he was an og
rolls royce tinted, we in the south
wish i ain’t get in it, but i can’t get out
[chorus: lb spiffy]
throw them packs on the block just like super bowl
count the racks up, make sure it look beautiful
your shawty see in the drip, of course she gon’ do the bro’s
get the racks, count it up like it’s nothing
hit your b*tch, then i tip her like london
we had nothing, but turned that to something
on the block we got sticks like we hunting (skurr*skurr)

[verse 3: ld bandz]
talking sh*t, we pop out the suburban
them hitters on your block, they be creeping, and lurking
met a baddie on road, she s*xy, and persian
but, girl, i love money, so what is your purchase
road for the green, me, and lb be swerving
glizzy thirty bop, yeah, these n*ggas gon’ learn this
these n*ggas be writing sh*t just like a journalist

[verse 4: kz flexy]
i hit your block, make it hot like a furnace
i catch you on sight, ain’t no turning
thirty on me for my earning
this shawty with me, got me learning
she get to the bag, ain’t no looking back
she stand in the way, no heart attack
she getting used to this life, and i’m scared of that
she loving my chain, but don’t ask for that
saying my name, and get taxed for that
[chorus: lb spiffy]
throw them packs on the block just like super bowl
count the racks up, make sure it look beautiful
your shawty see in the drip, of course she gon’ do the bro’s
get the racks, count it up like it’s nothing
hit your b*tch, then i tip her like london
we had nothing, but turned that to something
on the block we got sticks like we hunting (skurr*skurr)

- lb spiffy

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