- DJ Scheme 3 Sum 歌詞
- Robb Bank$ DJ Scheme
Yo man, this a hit, big hit
Ayy Ben, this, this shit might be a hit right here
You know we thuggin', Broward County to the death, nigga
You already know, nigga, **** that nigga
What? What?
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I like head, I like *****
I like that mouth, but I don't like kisses
I like threesomes and multiple *****es
I like Felisha, I like Jenny
I like ridin' that bitch like a pony
I like to get my hands dirty 'bout my doly
I know I make a ***** sick, let her suck me (Yeah)
Heard your wrist tickin' loud with that fake-ass Rollie, pussy
Whoa, whooped out a twelve inch, said that taste it like candy
Whoa, how the **** you walk past me and you ain't 'bow to me (Mwah)
Whoa, I get a lil' money and I can't even talk to these ****ies (Mwah)
Whoa, I see the nigga dead in the streets, I can't say nothin', no
You gotta drip, don't cuff that shit
You lovin' that thot, don't cuff that *****
I got yo' paycheck on my wrist
I could pay your tuition if I wave my hand
Got a bachelors degree, I'ma bachelor the *****
In the dorm room at UCL
Feel like B2K, shit, I'll never fear
I'm in my trap, baby, you know I ain't miss
I got Marcus [?] when I jump out of the car
Black man ride, pullin' up like, "Eugh"
Leather jacket, Margiela like Fuzzy
'Member when I was locked up in the County
Mama threw all my Perc's down the toilet
An officer watchin', was lookin', he try to find me
So my lil' brother cry when we lost our granny
Ten BB I said when that nigga met mammy
I can't talk to these niggas at all
If you **** thirty, I'm tryna see a nigga ball
'Bout, 'bout, 'bout, 'bout, 'bout that vibe
Might expose the story, I ain't watch it all
I done got tied to the Audi
A ***** got a Rolls Royce truck, B
Gave her Caribbean, hold that car
I like head, I like *****
I like that mouth, but I don't like kisses
I like threesomes and multiple *****es
I like Felisha, I like Jenny (Like, uh)
I like ridin' that ***** like a pony
I like to get my hands dirty 'bout my doly (*****)
I know I make a ***** sick, let her **** me
Heard your wrist tickin' loud with that fake-ass Rollie, *****
Whoa, whooped out a twelve inch, said that taste it like candy, yeah
Whoa, how the **** you walk past me and you ain't bow to me (Mwah)
Whoa, I get a lil' money and I can't even talk to these ****ies, yeah (Mwah)
Whoa, I see the nigga dead in the streets, I can't say nothin', no (Yeah)
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