Stunna Anthem

Uh
Yeah, yeah, ayy
Oh, woah-woah-woah (Cássio)
Yeah, ayy (P-Lo, time to bring the bass back)

In this thang, fired up, back lit
I could get a big bag quick
Po— Poke it out, turn around, lift that shit
Bi— Bitch, this that shit
In this thang, fired up, back lit
I could get a big bag quick
Po— Poke it out, turn around, lift that shit
Bi— Bitch, this that shit

I'm wavy, baby, I'm out here butter
Ain't graduated 'cause I'm still goin' dumber
I'm wonderin', will they ever step they game up?
Where I'm from we're really different, no, they cannot change us
They change up, but we stick to the script
Vallejo to The City to The Rich

In the town where it go down, no, you shouldn't bring your ho 'round
I refer myself to him as my pronoun
I could never be worried about no bitch
You the type to be trickin' and never hit
Me, too solid, I'm concrete, I keep it funky
She stay blowin' me up, sayin' she want me

In this thang, fired up, back lit
I could get a big bag quick
Po— Poke it out, turn around, lift that shit
Bi— Bitch, this that shit
In this thang, fired up, back lit
I could get a big bag quick
Po— Poke it out, turn around, lift that shit
Bi— Bitch, this that shit

Bounce that thing 'til you can't no more
Bou— Bou— Bou— Bou— Bou— Bou—
Bounce that thing 'til you can't no more
Bou— Bou— Bou— Bou— Bou—
Like you strip at a club in the A-T-L
Bou— Bou— Bou— Bou— Bou—

Like you strip at a club in the A-T-L
Lil' freak tore it up, they started raisin' hell— hell
Bounce that thing 'til you can't no more
Bou— Bou— Bou— Bou— Bou— Bou—
Bounce that thing 'til you can't no more
Woah, woah, woah (P-Lo, time to bring the bass back)

One, two, what it do?
I'm turns up, I ain't tryin' to be rude
Three, four, what it's for?
Wanna see you shake a little more
Five, six, don't quit
Imagine how she do it on a dick
Seven, eight, think straight
Do it for me, you ain't gotta meditate

I'ma call her right now, that shit over with
Bitch, I got Chanel for my deodorant
I'm in a Tesla with your ho in it
I'm a batter when she throwin' it
Had to give her my condolences, they've been dyin' for me to lose
I'm a mood, yeah, I'm out here 'cause I got a lot to prove
To the moon, it ain't nothin' I could swoon

I'm the realest in the room, like the mafia how we move
Oh, you ain't introduced? Let me learn you some'
Ayy, California hot boy, got it burnin' up
Like Serena when I'm servin' up
They throwin' shots, not the Moderna one, free Fo
When he home, we gon' turn 'em up, ayy
Yeah, yeah I got more dollars than I got mentions
I don't care how bad she is, I am not trickin'
I could own a Popeye's how I got chicken

One, two, what it do?
I'm turns up, I ain't tryin' to be rude
Three, four, what it's for?
Wanna see you shake a little more
Five, six, don't quit
Imagine how she do it on, a dick
Seven, eight, think straight
Do it for me, you ain't gotta, meditate



Credits
Writer(s): Paulo Rodriguez, Cassio Lopes, Miles Medina, Marley Berry
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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