Cottonelle

Shut them down, close shop with it
Got the Burberry with a glock in it
Blasting opps, off your top with it
Can't trace it back, bitch it's not permitted
Keep heat on me, piping hot with it
This is not a play and this is not scripted
Cold-hearted bitch and it's fuckin frigid
First we take your wig, and then we fuckin split it
And you know we go bananas with it
And nuts with it
On Tropicana niggas
I'm the talk of the town, it's propaganda nigga
My Atlanta killas be outlandish with it

Feel the vibe in the room and I'mma fuckin shift it
I'm a real shooter, no Scottie Pippen
You don't keep heat, get out the fuckin kitchen
And you better listen, don't let me catch you slippin

Woo, somebody hand me the got damn Cottonelle
I am shittin on these bitches
It stink in here
This shit heat
YES SIR

I could never be your causality
I keep lead on me, I'm posted casually
Keep Locs on lock and they'll blast for me
With no mask for me, enthusiastically
Prices on my head is my reality
And I don't give a fuck who coming after me
I don't ever hesitate to cause catastrophe
No hospitality, I lack sanity
My niggas never struggle financially
My bank account at full capacity
And this is meant to be taken literally
And expectedly, no blasphemy
I got to hide the dope up in my cavity
When I have to travel internationally
I will never settle for no stagnancy
I was made for this, it comes naturally

Eat these hoes up like souffle
No Bobby Flay, you my entre'
Call my niggas for niggas for the dirty work
They gone serve you up on a big plate
Gang rowdy, air you out broad day
And the lawyer paid, and we'll beat the case
Don't die playing hero nigga, drop your cape
I can't relate to your bitch traits



Credits
Writer(s): Mariah Hollis
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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