Fiesta

Uh yeah, baow, baow, baow, baow (TayMasterChef)
I thought I knew you, hold on, wait, bitch, who you?
Ay, yeah
(Blergh, blergh) lots of shots is what I do
Pull up, I go stu-
Ay, ay

Had him shakin' like a stripper when I upped on him (oh, yo)
Ain't have no pistol so he lackin', got the ups on him (c'mon)
My nigga really pistol packin', keep it tucked on him (go, go, now)
Catch him surfin' all in traffic, hole in one homie
West Orlando where it happen, you get bluffed shorty (come here)
I got the hook-up for these niggas, think they tough pardon (don't mess me)
I black and blue 'em, had to do 'em, had enough of 'em
Let me tell you 'bout my Bity, how it's rough thotty

Don't think this shit here Disney World 'cause nothin' 'bout it Disney
But matter of fact, Disney located off in Kissimmee
I'm in the sewers on Lanette, posted in the trenches (oh, yo)
You know the round got cadets, soldiers that be blitzin'
Tied in like a knot, Jordan and Scottie Pippen
I would inform you 'bout the spot, but I know that bitch snitchin'
Polka dot, nice shot, but ain't no fuckin' witness
Remember schemin' for them racks, now I'm really gettin' it (oh, yo)

I'm on the star with my strap, I know these niggas envy
Tryna take me off the map just for a pretty penny (oh-huh)
But I ain't dissin' on a star, I know niggas who spinnin'
But it's your feelings or your body, whatever it is, I'm with it
These niggas playin' superheroes, I'ma stay a villain
I fuck with Mal and Lil Kickdoor, so that ain't my business (that ain't)
Believe the lotto, that's the motto, 2raay know what's with it
You meet some hollows, keep a hollow stanky, leave 'em shitty

Shout out Lil Otto 'cross the tracks, I know they really livin'
Put up a L for your dog, please come spinnin' bennin'
Shout-out the circle, ain't no ho, them boys really killin'
Ivey Lane, they throw fours, posted with extensions
My lil' nigga keep a pole, tryna catch you slippin'
What's a code, common cold, bitch, that's walkin' distance (that's walkin' distance)
Seven hundred, that's the whoopers, and they really with it (oh, yeah)
I know you state, you been a trooper, I can feel it

Had him shakin' like a stripper when I upped on him (oh, yo)
Ain't have no pistol so he lackin', got the ups on him (c'mon)
My nigga really pistol packin', keep it tucked on him (go, go, now)
Catch him surfin' all in traffic, hole in one homie
West Orlando where it happen, you get bluffed shorty (come here)
I got the hook-up for these niggas, think they tough pardon (don't mess me)
I black and blue 'em, had to do 'em, had enough of 'em (bitch)
Let me tell you 'bout my Bity, how it's rough thotty



Credits
Writer(s): Gabriel Cruz, Paul Irrizarry
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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