lirik lagu tropicana – lord $hredda
sheesh, ha, lord, sheesh
[verse 1: lord shredda]
put a hater on watch, like a scented candle (mhmmmm)
tropicana, i got the juice like a spade (sheesh)
yellow b*tch wanna taste my banana, (oh no) show me your peach like you was from atlanta (atlanta)
i shoot my shot, pass me the hammer (oh no)
f*ck a b*tch with no props, no propaganda (oh no)
triple x films, like a p*rno camera (oh no)
she get me hard, ’cause i’m hard to handle (handle)
white little b*tch, call her cocoa (yeah, yeah)
get me that brain, i need low blows (blows)
hit her like boxing and get low blows (blows)
f*ck that b*tch, ’til she got no soul (oh no)
i had to give her my whole code (oh no)
she didn’t know i was so cold (oh no)
lowеrcase b*tches, have bad intеntions
always tryna’ be so bold (so bold)
i’m on my pogo, (yeah)
my name not bozo (yeah, yeah)
might get two for one, call it a bogo
with my woah’s on that lean (oh no)
this some good dope, i know so
lord blessed with the juice, (oh no)
she wanna taste of my fruit
i do my thing, she got a train
all aboard that lil’ caboose
[hook: lord shredda]
yeah, tropicana
ha, island dancer, (lord)
money tall, tower of babel (sheesh, sheesh)
i can’t hear your rambling
we made fl!cks, with yo’ b*tch, (know that, know that)
got her on camera (on film)
we made fl!cks, with yo’ b*tch
got her on camera (word up)
yeah, tropicana, (oh no)
ha, island dancer,(oh no)
money tall, tower of babel
i can’t hear your rambling
we made fl!cks, with yo’ b*tch
got her on camera
we made fl!cks, with yo’ b*tch
got her on camera
[verse 2: rtg]
kick that p*ssy that p*ssy got kicked ‘cross the room like a motherf*ckin’ spider with some legs (mhmmmm)
okay, that p*ssy got pits and the lead like the size of a leg (oh no)
look at the size of the lead (oh no)
think of .45 with one in the head
all of my brothers make bread
you play with they dome, n*gga ya’ dead
n*gga we [?] for the moment we leave ya’ ass red (yeah, yeah)
ya’ lady didn’t pack for the days i’ma leave her on read
i got a [?] for that b*tch she ride on my d*ck like a motherf*ckin’ pony (oh no)
oh you real hard by your homies? (oh no)
catch you boys out by yo’ lone (oh no)
i hit your b*tch with that rocket you n*ggas won’t test me you just as jabroni
pistol whip ya’ and leave a scar on ya’ face and the b*tches feeling like tony (oh no)
i got a b*tch from the island she wet like a coaster i ain’t talking bout [?] (oh no)
tropicana, island dancer, she be on camera she be like “record me”
[hook: lord shredda]
yeah, tropicana, (yeah, yeah)
ha, island dancer, (lord)
money tall, tower of babel
i can’t hear your rambling
we made fl!cks, with yo’ b*tch
got her on camera
we made fl!cks, with yo’ b*tch
got her on camera (word up)
yeah, tropicana
ha, island dancer
money tall, tower of babel
i can’t hear your rambling
we made fl!cks, with yo’ b*tch
got her on camera
we made fl!cks, with yo’ b*tch
got her on camera
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