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I’ve got L fuck skippin, put these whack rappers spittin I just like to listen, make the racket like position I supply them fiends, for that music they be itching Looking at my bedroom like it was my kitchen You puffin on some black music, I be so persistent I could make these hood tunes and I could make yo bitch wet I may have some issues but I be at my juice up And I get that different from poking in yo district I clap heap and go hard These beats and gold bars I might think they both talk Now spread out yo whole cock Then she ought to go far And mail out that postcard No slappin with most off I’m clappin my own chart I just need my old star These boys often roll by Pit stop, get mind My mind feel inside They design my new op Letras de cancionesLevi’s that slip wide True sign, I ain’t lyin Yea, yo! From Letras Mania