Oven Mitt (feat. 4th Quarter Keyz & Baddfish)
My dick is like a blick cause it be popping off
I don't know your bitch but she be thottin' off
Fourth be riding round and I be crashing cars
Looking at the sky like I'm a be a star
I been thinking, I been thinking
I been thinking, I been thinking
I been tweaking, I been tweaking
I been thinking lately like these pussy niggas can't fuck with me
Ride around with a big ass glock like what's up with him
Chains bouncing all up on my chest cause I ain't tucking it
Nigga try to rob and play with me, big boy I'm busting it
Block locked down from corner corner zone coverage
This backy a fighter it caught lungs and start snuffing it
Just know that shit some real pressure see me puffing it
Got a fast food worker bitch, told her McDouble it
My sauce to high, afford the gang label need oven mitts
Label need them oven mitts
Fuck you talking about buzz
Label need oven mitts huh
We heating up on these niggas
Yea (Uh, let's get it) Yea
We been blowing through them ounces, smoking by the pound
If she going don't bring that bitch around me, I might take her down
We go dollar for the dollar, me and Trizzy need it now
Niggas broke and looking sour he want his money, need it now
Ain't fucking with the snakes I cut them off I had to weed them out
Ain't fucking with the jakes in inner state, I took the scenic route
I see you in that room and you was talking what you speak about
Catch him in the cut while he walking now he leaking out
Shorty from the west I might just bring my Puerto Rican out
Damn I must confess I got her screaming like a demon now
We don't play no games we down to Kel ain't talking Kenan now
Bitch ride me like a bike kickstand got me leaning now
I just need a plug from cross the border
Pack a bag fuck it I'll just take a trip to Florida
Keep me a Latoya Luckett, I just tell her place her order
When she ask if we together I just tell her kind of sort of, kinda sorta damn
I don't know your bitch but she be thottin' off
Fourth be riding round and I be crashing cars
Looking at the sky like I'm a be a star
I been thinking, I been thinking
I been thinking, I been thinking
I been tweaking, I been tweaking
I been thinking lately like these pussy niggas can't fuck with me
Ride around with a big ass glock like what's up with him
Chains bouncing all up on my chest cause I ain't tucking it
Nigga try to rob and play with me, big boy I'm busting it
Block locked down from corner corner zone coverage
This backy a fighter it caught lungs and start snuffing it
Just know that shit some real pressure see me puffing it
Got a fast food worker bitch, told her McDouble it
My sauce to high, afford the gang label need oven mitts
Label need them oven mitts
Fuck you talking about buzz
Label need oven mitts huh
We heating up on these niggas
Yea (Uh, let's get it) Yea
We been blowing through them ounces, smoking by the pound
If she going don't bring that bitch around me, I might take her down
We go dollar for the dollar, me and Trizzy need it now
Niggas broke and looking sour he want his money, need it now
Ain't fucking with the snakes I cut them off I had to weed them out
Ain't fucking with the jakes in inner state, I took the scenic route
I see you in that room and you was talking what you speak about
Catch him in the cut while he walking now he leaking out
Shorty from the west I might just bring my Puerto Rican out
Damn I must confess I got her screaming like a demon now
We don't play no games we down to Kel ain't talking Kenan now
Bitch ride me like a bike kickstand got me leaning now
I just need a plug from cross the border
Pack a bag fuck it I'll just take a trip to Florida
Keep me a Latoya Luckett, I just tell her place her order
When she ask if we together I just tell her kind of sort of, kinda sorta damn
Credits
Writer(s): Cameron Huddleston
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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