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lirik lagu dip-n-sauce – montana of 300

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[intro]
kilow key, man, what up?
that’s too nasty

[chorus]
shawty see this sauce, i guess that’s why she wanna dip though
i’m who these b-tches feel, they know the deal, they on my pickle
hope the way i drip these haters don’t think i’m a l!ck though
i can’t afford to slip that’s why i’m grippin’ on my pistol
i’m riding with that four-oh, oh-yeah-yeah-yeah
i might take your hoe-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah
pedal to the floor-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah
racing to that dough-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah

[verse 1]
headed to them dollar signs
big ol’ 40 on my side
whippin’, grippin’, on her thighs
shawty blow me while i drive
i’m connected, that’s my word like written in cursive
gucci shades, lookin’ clean up in them gl-sses, dish detergent
i’m scott hall and i’m curt hennig
clothes is dripping, mr. perfect
b-tch, i’m splurging, bad b-tch slurping, i hope i don’t get to swervin’ (woo)
i be gettin’ brain while i’m switchin’ lanes (uh)
feelin’ like the rain, drip on everything (sauce)
i’m flyer than a plane, he think sh-t a game
he must wanna feel the rain like he eddie cane
you could get it, pistol grippin’, i ain’t slippin’
ghost busters, i was trappin’, all them n-ggas called me winston
b-tch, i am of no religion, but my louboutins are christian
got that bag, you know i’m drippin’
when i tee up, it ain’t lipton

[chorus]
shawty see this sauce, i guess that’s why she wanna dip though
i’m who these b-tches feel, they know the deal, they on my pickle
hope the way i drip these haters don’t think i’m a l!ck though
i can’t afford to slip that’s why i’m grippin’ on my pistol
i’m riding with that four-oh, oh-yeah-yeah-yeah
i might take your hoe-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah
pedal to the floor-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah
racing to that dough-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah

[verse 2]
girl, put your two feet up
slide up in that p-ssy with like two fingers and make it juicier
she throwin’ deuces up
she left her ex and met the executioner
i got them other n-ggas faded like a boosie cut
girl, we gon give ’em h-ll like they was lucifer, now cut the música
it’s just the two of us and my 40 cal, you know it move with us
don’t want my money, all she wanna do is f-ck
just tell your ex he better keep it cool because i will shoot sh-t up
she said god sent the male of her dreams, but i’m just racing to that door like the bell from the ring
she said she can’t wait til we get home to get this d-ck though
chokeslam a b-tch up on a bed, i think i’m big show
pull her back and c-ck it, now she bustin’ like my pistol
right after that we get dough, you know how this sh-t go (go)

[chorus]
shawty see this sauce, i guess that’s why she wanna dip though
i’m who these b-tches feel, they know the deal, they on my pickle
hope the way i drip these haters don’t think i’m a l!ck though
i can’t afford to slip that’s why i’m grippin’ on my pistol
i’m riding with that four-oh, oh-yeah-yeah-yeah
i might take your hoe-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah
pedal to the floor-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah
racing to that dough-oh-oh-yeah-yeah-yeah

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