Despicable G's
Lyrics
Pull up, dumb as fuck, we are too despicable
Late night, off the goop, call me Jimmy Kimmicals
Too many options, Alex Burrows like it's Whac-A-Mole
Morals didn't align with the bag, that's no on principal
Gravy, fuck stocks, I'ma thot broker, bitch, pay me
Betty Crock when I pop over like I baked it
Take the beat, add a lil' heat and fillet it
You play sports? I play hoes from Sports Illustrated
Sex and the City
Your mom tryna watch, so I'll turn her like Timmy
Oops, I hit it again like Britney
Stack my bread, freaky fast like Jimmy
Ooh, look pretty
Flick of that wrist get dizzy
I be getting down, getting jiggy
Everybody in the club getting tipsy
Got a fat ass, Miss Piggy
Ain't got no titties, they small, no biggie
My clique too litty, my whip two-fifty
my shit too witty, your wit too shit
Ain't a cool cat, bitch, I'm a cold kitty
Keep three Stix, not one of them Pixie
Keep three chicks, not one of them Dixie
Still playing my ex bitch 360
Pull up, dumb as fuck, we are too despicable
Late night, off the goop, call me Jimmy Kimmicals
Too many options, Alex Burrows like it's Whac-A-Mole
Morals didn't align with the bag, that's no on principal
Gravy, fuck stocks, I'ma thot broker, bitch, pay me
Betty Crock when I pop over like I baked it
Take the beat, add a lil' heat and fillet it
You play sports? I play hoes from Sports Illustrated
I stay bona fide, I stay bonin' all the fine ass birds on tour
They say, "what's your type?"
I say, "I don't mind, I shoot, I score"
Big ol' brand-new crib
Backyard on the beac, and that's for sure
She tryna sleep with me
I say goodnight 'cause she a bore
He say, she say, she sell seashells
That bitch lyin', she sell head
Wake up with a bad guy, wake up to some bad top, ooh, ah
He say, she say, she was feeling him, but bro got left on read
Your girl following the tour, groupie
My girl A24, movie
Pull up, dumb as fuck, we are too despicable
Late night, off the goop, call me Jimmy Kimmicals
Too many options, Alex Burrows like it's Whac-A-Mole
Morals didn't align with the bag, that's no on principal
Gravy, fuck stocks, I'ma thot broker, bitch, pay me
Betty Crock when I pop over like I baked it
Take the beat, add a lil' heat and fillet it
You play sports? I play hoes from Sports Illustrated
Writer(s): Alex Gumuchian, Ari Starace, Justin Lucas, Matthew Hauri
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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