Tryin’ to bag a brother with a super bowl ring
No rations or resources for eating//
They say i'm too nice to be a rapper
Eating my soul just like cancer,
Rollin blunt after blunt, prowlin down town on that big booty hunt,
Sorry i'm so demanding, sick of dancing back to mansion and
Unless its a booty calls comin from the stalls
Inside my heads telling me evil thoughts
Didn't do a thing at all
Hit me up for a booty call.
Ya'll bullshittin', still goin on dates
As this booty quakes lakes,
So pretty mama make that booty accessible,
Rack city, rack city she need a shovel
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
You looking for tools to write and share lyrics online?
You're in luck! Get started using RapPad >