Letra de Jasmine's
(Summertime Butch)
Ayo, power trophy up the stove in Garçon
Ayo, power trophy up the stove in Garçon
If you need me, l be in my cell on the phone
George capitals you see the bones, I'm in the Rolls
Might be the first drug dealer on the Vogue
Mule panicking, cause she laid out to the andalay
Made shit, my heart's with the Scush All through Lama Ray (Ah)
My bitch, still will wanna fight, shooter on the left
The first who make her move her dope, dope, be the best
Goyard satchel with thе blick, leaving out the rich
Chips and Leasе on the shoppin spree, just me and your bitch (Woo)
I bought me everything, I ain't buying shit
Hermes crocodile sandals stepping on a brick 36 to 44, shit much more
My man mom died, he in the cell with the rings and bulls
Fuck is the state of rap?
Same shit they've been trying to act since Pac died
And B.I.G. left and the gang went a lil' lop side on the pop side
And not cry, it's elementary that you add some entries to your top 5
Cause evidently l'm in my prime, doing better than them who done got signed
But it cost me, how else can I put it?
They forced me, bullets and coffee
I cheated the game, it felt good as adultry
Asked the last label, well l'm a rap saver I'm a cash major, l'm a mad strangler, I'm a cash cow and a stack saver
We could chat now, or we could chat later
I made my wrist lock Then made a movie bout it Like the black Alfred Hitchcock
Interrogation room I be so quiet in it that you might hear a pin drop
What's the state of rap? Same shit they've been trying to act since Will Smith and Jazzy Jeff
I sold real bricks I still don't got no real hits
But cocaine still give thrills
White girl, real kill bill shit
I get chills when I close deals
Made a quarter mill off some chill shit
I get the pill, I'm tryna bang like I'm O'Neal You just Josh Childress
I show you jits 'round the money, I'll take you lil' n***** on a field trip
Got a yacht master on a yacht
**** we are not rappers
All the cops past them
And they drop faster than a time traveler
And my watch flashing like I'm arm-wrestlers
But you like the senior, with bad grades
And I'm the dean, I'm thinking why cap ya
Couch potato with an iPad and a mic so, now, you a podcaster
They hit they ceilings, I'm booked in Paris, let's get to business
Two-hundred fifty in hundreds, to count it, it take her 10 minutes (Maybe eight)
Fuck is the state of rap? Same shit they've been trying to act since Eazy-E
Only street n***** gon' agree with me
I'm just a rich n**** with a GED
Big Butch, ah
George capitals you see the bones, I'm in the Rolls
Might be the first drug dealer on the Vogue
Mule panicking, cause she laid out to the andalay
Made shit, my heart's with the Scush All through Lama Ray (Ah)
My bitch, still will wanna fight, shooter on the left
The first who make her move her dope, dope, be the best
Goyard satchel with thе blick, leaving out the rich
Chips and Leasе on the shoppin spree, just me and your bitch (Woo)
I bought me everything, I ain't buying shit
Hermes crocodile sandals stepping on a brick 36 to 44, shit much more
My man mom died, he in the cell with the rings and bulls
Fuck is the state of rap?
Same shit they've been trying to act since Pac died
And B.I.G. left and the gang went a lil' lop side on the pop side
And not cry, it's elementary that you add some entries to your top 5
Cause evidently l'm in my prime, doing better than them who done got signed
But it cost me, how else can I put it?
They forced me, bullets and coffee
I cheated the game, it felt good as adultry
Asked the last label, well l'm a rap saver I'm a cash major, l'm a mad strangler, I'm a cash cow and a stack saver
We could chat now, or we could chat later
I made my wrist lock Then made a movie bout it Like the black Alfred Hitchcock
Interrogation room I be so quiet in it that you might hear a pin drop
What's the state of rap? Same shit they've been trying to act since Will Smith and Jazzy Jeff
I sold real bricks I still don't got no real hits
But cocaine still give thrills
White girl, real kill bill shit
I get chills when I close deals
Made a quarter mill off some chill shit
I get the pill, I'm tryna bang like I'm O'Neal You just Josh Childress
I show you jits 'round the money, I'll take you lil' n***** on a field trip
Got a yacht master on a yacht
**** we are not rappers
All the cops past them
And they drop faster than a time traveler
And my watch flashing like I'm arm-wrestlers
But you like the senior, with bad grades
And I'm the dean, I'm thinking why cap ya
Couch potato with an iPad and a mic so, now, you a podcaster
They hit they ceilings, I'm booked in Paris, let's get to business
Two-hundred fifty in hundreds, to count it, it take her 10 minutes (Maybe eight)
Fuck is the state of rap? Same shit they've been trying to act since Eazy-E
Only street n***** gon' agree with me
I'm just a rich n**** with a GED
Big Butch, ah
