STARBCKZZ (feat. Killthree & bbyshoota)

I be chilling with all the deads, be booling with Frank the most
And yo shooter just lost his head, hit his brain now he comatose
And I count cash on caffeine, we eating, need me a toast
I'm a fiend for all of the green, I love the rolls, let's see if it smoke

Hundred rounds, we shoot your chest, lil' nigga you not going home
I feel like Danny Phantom, nigga, feeling like a ghost
Your bitch, she at my crib and she wanna give me throat
I call my Glocky "Mr. It" 'cause this .40 make you float
These niggas tried to steal my flow, these niggas tryna roll up, bro
I got my sticky, let it blow, your bitch, she on my dick and throat
I can't fuck with no ho, my Glock kiss, mistletoe
Sipping lean, poured a four, spilling lean on the floor

I be chilling with all the deads, be booling with Frank the most
And yo shooter just lost his head, hit his brain now he comatose
And I count cash on caffeine, we eating, need me a toast
I'm a fiend for all of the green, I love the rolls, let's see if it smoke
APX on my body, I got a arm if I see your hand
I can smoke you, then smoke exotic
Boy, that blick gon' give you a tan
And I'm high on autopilot, don't think that I'm gon' land
And I heard that nigga shiesty, don't wan' work, don't give him a chance

Bossed up in Japan, nigga, you ain't got no hands
Your bitch, she scared to hold my dick, you know she rocking on some Vans
Nigga, I'ma shoot the block up, better check up on your mans
That nigga a ho, boy, he know damn well that he ain't getting no bands
I got a stick, no Harry Potter, we gon' put you in a trance
I'm like "Why your bitch hit up my phone and she my biggest fan?"
Sipping, tripping with that Percocet with Henny in my hand
You gon' talk shit when I have this stick and shoot it at your mans

Hugh Hefner, all my bitches tens, she wan' fuck as friends
She wan' love me, she wan' love me 'til the end, not again
All my bitches feel my love, they know I used to flip dubs
UK shooter look like Chubbs, Starbucks cup to pour me up

I be chilling with all the deads, be booling with Frank the most
And yo shooter just lost his head, hit his brain now he comatose
And I count cash on caffeine, we eating, need me a toast
I'm a fiend for all of the green, I love the rolls, let's see if it smoke
APX on my body, I got a arm if I see your hand
I can smoke you, then smoke exotic
Boy, that blick gon' give you a tan
And I'm high on autopilot, don't think that I'm gon' land
And I heard that nigga shiesty, don't wan' work, don't give him a chance



Credits
Writer(s): Dan Dumas
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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