Come Thru

Is you comin' or not
And I ain't talkin' bout my dick in yo twat
Ain't it man
Like a paintin' can
You under pressure
Mr. Jewlzz take it there
A field measure my dick
In yo jawbone
Naw I'm just playin'
But I'm sayin'
Get yo sexy ass up before I have to kill yo man
Bitch, you ain't supposed to be trippin'
Me neither, I'm just home visitin'
Now bring it back like a fat ass
Let me dump all on it
As if I didn't want it
Fuck it
You wanna suck it so I'm pressed for time
It would be rude of me to not tap yo spine
Pretty hizzie, can't you see
That I wanna be yo ruler like MC Ricky D
Deep throat with a wet pussy
Bust it open Queen
That pretty pink

I will rock the boat bitch
Yes you know this
You are chosen
Dick print you notice
I give zero fucks, yeah I'm on it
Open them thighs again I'm goin in
You can do you, or
You can come thru, but
Please keep in mind I got plans for you shit
Say less and fuck more
What you think I got this penthouse for

Whatup doe I know Ma, I'm killin' ya
Sometimes I pinch myself the way I'm livin' a-life
Muthafuckaz can't fathom this
Fuck buyin' it
Won't fit yo neck or wrist
Won't fit yo waist either
My chocolate Diva
So anywhere on God's green Earth
Ima beat that pussy down
Got hella freedom
No half steppin' either
Long Live Kane fever
I'm cold chillin' like it's '88
Now circle 'round this dick and get my life straight
Pino Grigio, some weed with my hoe
She don't know how to roll but she damn sure smoke
And after that a blow
You know it's medical
I'm a balls deep surgeon where my scalpel at doe
My bitch ain't no counterfeit
I keep dick in her ass like skits

I will rock the boat bitch
Yes you know this
You are chosen
Dick print you notice
I give zero fucks, yeah I'm on it
Open them thighs again I'm goin in
You can do you, or
You can come thru, but
Please keep in mind I got plans for you shit
Say less and fuck more
What you think I got this penthouse for

Let me third letter ya
Wearin' damn near nothin'
Mind in the goddamn gutter when I'm puffin'
I saw you on your post
Lookin' hella sexy like my seventh grade crush too cold
Like the '80s a thriller in biker shorts
Hoochie mama dresses with door knockers get that child support
I wish I had game then
I woulda pulled up and parked my Schwin
But since we here now
Belaire clear now
No more Big Fish
We dine at Ruth's Chris
That's on a basic night
We doing Mancy's right
Benchmarks was nice
How 'bout you book a flight
I wanna lick you low at the Belamere
So if you know you know bitch we grind here
I push a ton off in yo pussy
I almost let that muthafucka whoop me



Credits
Writer(s): Wilmot Williams
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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