Canadian Goose
Don, I'm 'bout to run this motherfucker
Oh my God
I can't police no bitch, I just pass 'em and laugh
At 15 was on the blade, should've been up in class
I'm a scum son of a bitch, trade pussy for cash
Stripper renegading a fag, I be doing 'em bad
Got a freak in my front seat with her feet on the dash
I love a swipin'-ass-bitch who stay in the lab
You can't cook, you don't clean, all you offer is ass?
Bitch, grab your coat and hit the door 'cause I'm through with your ass
Play the broke role, I ain't got, it's just to test a bitch
And I always free a bitch to get a better bitch
That better bitch got more hustle than a wetter bitch
And that square bitch won't bust a date like a go-getter bitch
Quick to slide in your DMs, quick to see what's happening
Quick to send my first and last name, moneygram a thousand
Quick to free the bitch before Christmas, I'm so fuckin' childish
Quick to beef it up to that future, ain't no way around it
I finna start walking around with that diamond tester
And everybody claiming they flips bricks and fuck with Hector
Sippin' Quali' and fake act 'cause they don't know no better
When them pints get here from Texas, I'ma change the weather
Quick to pull a nigga card, quick to up the steel
Quick to phone up lil' Tyrin for them xan pills
I'm the goat at running plays, two minute drills
All my bitches got on cleats, they don't trap in heels
I'm an alpha male in these streets, real as they come
22nd and foothill, up the street from the ones
You either hustle or you starve, you a boss or a bum
Morris Sams gave me the game, don't compare me to none
I got more rank than every nigga rappin' on the mic
Ask Quas and Drini Man, I'ma fool on the dice
G-star, what type of shoes, bitch, Sherman's or Mike's?
Throw on that Free-The-Bitch shirt that's sponsored by trife
20 niggas in the club, they came with Obama
All the bitches love us, niggas never want the problems
If we do, we got some shorties who would love to solve 'em
So you don't want that cold weather on your baby mama
It get cold in the O, Canadian Goose (Canadian Goose)
My new teeth is rose gold, five hundred a tooth
Follow me on snap, you think I'm lying, I'll DM the proof
Slide through my hood, I bet them snipers hit you from the roof
High as fuck, don't wanna crash off this trife juice
Stop playin' with me, man
Already told you niggas I'm comin', uh
I don't even know why niggas size up with me
BG ass niggas
Who the fuck you sizin' up with?
It don't make no difference
If I'm in a vintage T-shirt or if I'm in a flannel, stop playin'
Scott thank you for fuckin' with me
Fezzy, what's happenin', P?
Kim Son
Oh my God
I can't police no bitch, I just pass 'em and laugh
At 15 was on the blade, should've been up in class
I'm a scum son of a bitch, trade pussy for cash
Stripper renegading a fag, I be doing 'em bad
Got a freak in my front seat with her feet on the dash
I love a swipin'-ass-bitch who stay in the lab
You can't cook, you don't clean, all you offer is ass?
Bitch, grab your coat and hit the door 'cause I'm through with your ass
Play the broke role, I ain't got, it's just to test a bitch
And I always free a bitch to get a better bitch
That better bitch got more hustle than a wetter bitch
And that square bitch won't bust a date like a go-getter bitch
Quick to slide in your DMs, quick to see what's happening
Quick to send my first and last name, moneygram a thousand
Quick to free the bitch before Christmas, I'm so fuckin' childish
Quick to beef it up to that future, ain't no way around it
I finna start walking around with that diamond tester
And everybody claiming they flips bricks and fuck with Hector
Sippin' Quali' and fake act 'cause they don't know no better
When them pints get here from Texas, I'ma change the weather
Quick to pull a nigga card, quick to up the steel
Quick to phone up lil' Tyrin for them xan pills
I'm the goat at running plays, two minute drills
All my bitches got on cleats, they don't trap in heels
I'm an alpha male in these streets, real as they come
22nd and foothill, up the street from the ones
You either hustle or you starve, you a boss or a bum
Morris Sams gave me the game, don't compare me to none
I got more rank than every nigga rappin' on the mic
Ask Quas and Drini Man, I'ma fool on the dice
G-star, what type of shoes, bitch, Sherman's or Mike's?
Throw on that Free-The-Bitch shirt that's sponsored by trife
20 niggas in the club, they came with Obama
All the bitches love us, niggas never want the problems
If we do, we got some shorties who would love to solve 'em
So you don't want that cold weather on your baby mama
It get cold in the O, Canadian Goose (Canadian Goose)
My new teeth is rose gold, five hundred a tooth
Follow me on snap, you think I'm lying, I'll DM the proof
Slide through my hood, I bet them snipers hit you from the roof
High as fuck, don't wanna crash off this trife juice
Stop playin' with me, man
Already told you niggas I'm comin', uh
I don't even know why niggas size up with me
BG ass niggas
Who the fuck you sizin' up with?
It don't make no difference
If I'm in a vintage T-shirt or if I'm in a flannel, stop playin'
Scott thank you for fuckin' with me
Fezzy, what's happenin', P?
Kim Son
Credits
Writer(s): D Andre Sams, Travis Jackson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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