DAMN SHORTY (feat. Sexyy Red)

He like, "How you fit that ass in them pants?"
You wanna see me, but you better have them bands
I'm with my bitches, so you gotta bring some friends (bring some friends)
I'm a dog, I ain't tryna do the romance (Trap-a-Holics, real trap shit)

This Chicago, nigga
Damn shorty (this one ain't even on purpose, man)
Damn shorty (shoot on accident)
Damn shorty (I thought about it, like damn)
Damn shorty (damn shorty)
Damn shorty (Young Rari)
(I'm talking to myself, though)

How you fit that Glock in them tight-ass pants, shorty? (Trap-a-Holics)
They like, "How you get it, damn, shorty?" (Ay)
How you pulling up in the Lamb', shorty? (Ay)
Mans like, "Who that at the door?", my damn shorties (ay, ay)

We'll shoot your ass while you on cam, shorty (ay)
If we can't get you, we gon' get your fam, shorty (ay)
I'm like, "Tracy come out, cut and slam shorty" (ay)
Me and gang in LA, we'll ram shorty (real trap shit) (real trap shit)
I can't come to your city, I'm finna land, shorty (ay)
I'll pop you, we ain't throwing hands, shorty (ay)
I'll turn your ass a new strand, shorty (ay)
I'm off Tooka, we don't do the Xans, shorty (ay)

Damn shorty, damn shorty
Make the chopper sing, Big Baby DRAM, shorty (ay)
We'll catch you in the club, Sam shorty (ay)
Get to spraying cooking butter, Pam, shorty (ay)
Damn shorty, damn shorty
We just watching out for Uncle Sam, shorty (ay)
They like, "Sosa, when you get that Lamb', shorty?"
You already know what I am, shorty

He like, "How you fit that ass in them pants?" (Them pants)
You wanna see me, but you better have them bands (bands)
I'm with my bitches so you gotta bring some friends (bring some friends)
I'm a dog, I ain't tryna do the romance (romance)

I'm a real fine bitch and I got that bag
Hoes don't play with me, 'cause I get on they ass
I like to hop up in my car and drive it fast (yoom)
Ain't pulling over, we outside, fuck the test (skrrt, skrrt, skrrt, skrrt)
My coochie good, that's why I got two baby dads
I hate a lying-ass nigga, I'll flash
Don't turn me up, you know I get to acting bad
I tell my hoes when you with me, the world mad

Yeah, I'm rich, but I like to chill out on the block (on blood)
He wanna hang with me, but he ain't got no Glock (he ain't got no Glock)
I'm doing donuts while I'm pulling off the lot (skrt, skrt, skrt, skrt)
And I ain't hiding from these bitches, fuck the opps (fuck the opps)
(It's Sexyy)

Damn shorty, damn shorty
You should already know I rep' my gang, shorty
You already know I don't tuck no chain, shorty
You can't hang, shorty, you tuck your chain, shorty
You was tryna hang, shorty, got your dumbass banged shorty
We ain't playing around, shorty, this ain't no game, shorty
On a roof, feel like I'm on a crane, shorty
You be rocking where? Boy, you ain't Dame, shorty

I was on the CTA bus and a train, shorty
Never got big-headed since I got fame, shorty (I got fame)
You dropped your location, then we came, shorty (ay, came)
Before we kill you, we gon' give you that pain, shorty (give ya that pain)
They threw me in the booth, told me, "Go insane, shorty"
Got a Hermès umbrella in case it rain, shorty, ay
Riding 'round your city with me and my same shorties (same shorty)
Finna come bowl on you, better stay in your lane shorty (lane shorty, ay)



Credits
Writer(s): Michael Len Williams, Keith Cozart, Ernest Day Jr., Janae Nierah Wherry
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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