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lirik lagu last dance – stanwill

[intro]
they finna hear this b*tch and be like, “what the f*ck?”
b*tch
b*tch, yeah
huh, yeah, huh, ayy

[verse]
hit him in his omelette, boy, the chop full of jimmy dean
if tron say “f*ck you”, you know i’m on jimmy team
count money, why i see fame? feel like slimmy b
hunnid ars, hunnid glocks with ’bout fifty beams
throw some lil’ cheddar on his head, get him swiss cheesed
wouldn’t even give her ass a blessing if the b*tch sneezed
high school, was arena stepping, boy, them big b’s
head so good, almost said some sh*t i didn’t mean
punched a hunnid 12 pros, d*mn near the max man
if i could, i’ll throw yo album in the trash can
glock 23, i’ll give a opp his last dance
you ain’t gotta ask me where i’m at, it’s the lab, man
i can feel the f*cking goat running through my dna
only time you see me with a scrub if she a cna
if he know i scammed jesus, what would jesus say?
how i’m feeling, f*ck ichiban, it’s a pita day
yeah, f*ck it, i’ma hit coney
feel like hugh hef’, everywhere i go that b*tch on me
name really should’ve been “quan” ’cause i’m rich, homie
you couldn’t get a punch up out of me if i was mick foley
closet ’bout to flood the d*mn crib ’cause it’s drip only
he’ll catch a .223 before i put a fist on me
funny how my yeezys got my motherf*cking kit glowing
seen a lil’ snow, punched a moncler by rick owens
every single lil’ place i go, know the glock poking
told her i might be a lot of things but i’m not broke
if you see a opp, gang jumping off the top row
put a hunnid holes in him, f*ck around and croc bro
catch a opp at his venue, we’ll rock show
on some real sh*t, ain’t a scam i do not know
bro bust exotic pops open and he drop four
sh*lls put him on the ground for beef, that’s a taco
on the shot with ninety*nine shots, feel like tacko fall
you a motherf*cking moron, think i’m not gon’ ball
i ain’t even tell the b*tch my name, she said, “drop yo drawers”
said he got the juice? might f*ck around and have to mop yo dawg
when i’m in store all i f*cking know is grab giffy
backshots, backshots, b*tch got her ass ricky
on the road, keep telling my b*tch this the last city
still up glock knowing i could be yo ass, really
white b*tch eating d*ck on cam, i’m jamal murray
hunnid f*cking glocks at the spot and they all 30
opps got a single thing in common, why they all dirty?
threw her in a mink, my b*tch walk around all furry
opps said it’s on the floor, i told them n*ggas bet it up
reach for anything? pop yo ass like you 7 up
she know i’m a christian ’cause my shoe bottoms red as f*ck
push my f*cking yeezys on the gas, ain’t no letting up
let him play foul, dee blowing, he a referee
dior’s christian as f*ck, i done blessed my feet
green light done made a opp stop, he done met my beam
you done let yo b*tch meet sh*ttyboyz, now she left yo team
we don’t want her, she a free agent
everywhere i f*cking go glock poking, piece dangling
think he wanna fight? must f*ck around and wanna meet angels
trvan gogh, might f*ck around and have dee paint you
[outro]
yeah
b*tch, we— huh
b*tch, we really sh*t, huh
yeah, b*tch, i’m giffy
b*tch, yeah, we giffy lit
yeah, i’m in that one bag on this b*tch, man
feel like the old sh*ttyboyz

- stanwill

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