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On my Ps and Qs I be steppin' in Jimmy Choo Know she just want the loot You ain't gettin' nothing, you just get the boot I just want her mind I'ma fuck then kick her out You just runnin' your mouth You ain't 'bout what you say you 'bout I got two bad twins in my DM tryna fuck on me right now I got two of my niggas on the block all day tryna trap until the sun come down Still be comfortable 'round killers even when all of the guns are out If a nigga play with Jack, I bet they show up at your mama house If a nigga play with Jack, I bet they show up where your mama stay Steppin' in designer shoes, my killers livin' luxury Most these rap niggas be gay, I hope that they don't talk to me Be all on the opp dick but lowkey tryna fuck with me Nah, you can't fuck with me Fire, keep it tucked with me She lied, she say she love the Z Didn't get mad, gave her my dick to eat If she get mad, still better not use teeth I'm going days hoe call Uber Eats Im going days hoe I got too much beef Everywhere I go pocket rocket on me I fuck with DJ he keep my opps in the scope Letras de cancionesReal street nigga down a tye that's a tote Real street nigga never doin the most Like August alstina fucked a rich nigga hoe I'm that first prince from Haiti who can't go broke I'm that nigga that ain't have shit but a little bit of hope I'm that nigga who was in the mall with 20K, and spent all that shit on clothes On my Ps and Qs I be steppin' in Jimmy Choo Know she just want the loot You ain't gettin' nothing, you just get the boot I just want her mind I'ma fuck then kick her out You just runnin' your mouth You ain't 'bout what you say you 'bout I got two bad twins in my DM tryna fuck on me right now I got two of my niggas on the block all day tryna trap until the sun come down Still be comfortable 'round killers even when all of the guns are out If a nigga play with Jack, I bet they show up at your mama house Lil' nigga, you play, get popped If you play, better play with Glocks Caught him lacking on his block And he ended up right on Fox All that talking now his dead ass all up on the fucking news Big stepper, I done smooshed his ass, got blood all on my shoes I don't listen to rules, baby, I just do whatever I want Sorry to be rude, baby, leave that ho so nonchalant They got no clue how I ran up these blues, I got a magic wand I don't give a fuck who rock Christian Dior, bitch, go ask I'm the Don Ayy I'm the Don won, ayy, I tote big guns Ayy, might shoot you for fun, ayy, boy, you run, you dumb Boy, I swear if you run, that's tragic I'ma chase you down and let you have it I be dressing classic while I tote ratchets Still fucking project hoes, swear I got bad habits On my Ps and Qs I be steppin' in Jimmy Choo Know she just want the loot You ain't gettin' nothing, you just get the boot I just want her mind I'ma fuck then kick her out You just runnin' your mouth You ain't 'bout what you say you 'bout I got two bad twins in my DM tryna fuck on me right now I got two of my niggas on the block all day tryna trap until the sun come down Still be comfortable 'round killers even when all of the guns are out If a nigga play with Jack, I bet they show up at your mama house From Letras Mania