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lirik lagu talkin tart – sweet t

[verse 1]
i’m still feeling fat, tryna double cheese
dollar sign*w*double e*double t
big busty chop came strapped with some double d’s
i’m not the weed man but i just came up on a couple p’s
i never been in neiman marcus but that sh*t don’t phase me
i’ll never hit the set, b*tch, i be tearing down the macy’s
i got boy in the bas*m*nt like john wayne gacy
and the chop stays kicking just like patrick swayze
that sh*t’ll make the ground shake like it came from haiti
d*mn, that b*tch left my arm achy
if you run up on me, i’ll send your ass to hades
if i told you what i sold you then you would probably hate me
i got fiends abusing the dog just like kevin sp*cey
i turn my pop [?] even though it came stacey
he feel like big meech ’cause he’s out here slapping eighthies
i just rolled that in the ‘wood and now i’m feeling hazy
now i’m feeling lazy
every time i leave the stu’ they’re like, “this is f*cking crazy”
bet your ass i be talking racy when i’m eighty
and the pocket rocket loud like a f*cking kh 80
i drive a girl car, that b*tch only push eighty
but if you push up on me, you’ll be pushing up daisies
and i put that on baby
out here kicking footb*lls like my name was “tom brady”
if you’re talking ’bout some money then i get that on the daily
but i need that sh*t flowing like the f*cking euphrates
glock 45 on me and it ain’t got a safety
anyone can get this sh*t, i feel like d*ck cheney
[interlude]
let it, uh, let it play out here for a minute

[verse 2]
b*tch, i’m tryna pull up foreign, not lafontaine
i got a hammer on my hip, you can call me “john wayne”
you going out like abel just for acting like cain
it’s seven grams in the ‘wood, i’m blowing pink champagne
unc’ love the rock and i ain’t talking dwayne
i got a ar*15 that sing like shania twain
i call that b*tch “damon wayan” ’cause it’s bringing major pain
and if the feds hit my sh*t, i’ma stuff it down the drain
call me “oxiclean” ’cause it ain’t sh*t to hit a stain
if i was born back then then i’d be sticking up the trains
i call this b*tch “collard greens” ’cause she’ll never be my main
no watch, no chain, i’m pulling up plain jane
how i speak so dull but i’m talking so sharp?
i’m up at ql working on the arp
i’ll pull up in the field with the sticks like i larp
pop a opp in a top and then roll him in a tarp
b*tch, the name is sweet t but i stay talking tart
gramps caught a hundred bodies plus a purple heart
you could throw the keys out, i want one push to start
in this b*tch talking dumb but i’m smart

- sweet t

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