Steve Austin
Lyrics
(It's Jason Rich, baby)
Got a Phantom 'cause I always wanted one
Picked a magazine up, I was on the front (get it)
Pipe your girl and her friends, that's a five-on-one
Hit the Gravy stroke, hole in one
Got a drop Chevelle 'cause I always wanted one (yeah)
I looked her in her eyes and lied, said, "You my only one" (sike)
Hardtop Chevelle because I always wanted one (ooh)
Blue rocks in the Richard Mille, bitch that's a one-of-one (it's Dolph)
Popped off, only took a sec
I'm the Easter bunny, carats on my neck
Pop, lock, drop, make 'em hit the deck
Drop my top while I'm gettin' neck
I feel like I'm Wu-Tang, I'm protected
Ran into your boo thing, she got rejected
That's just how I do things and they respect it
Dropkick, Liu Kang
Bitch, I'm flossin', yeah
Cold stone wrist with the frosting
Gravy stone cold, Steve Austin
Pullin' up with your ho 'cause I'm saucin'
Like Steve Austin
Bitch, I been flossin'
That's my shit, come get your bitch
She lurkin' but she ain't slick
She tryna get a grip, woah
'Scuse me, ma'am, that's my dick (woah)
I feel like I'm Boyardee, Gravy get it sauced up
I stop fuckin' with the scene, then I came and popped up
I'ma help you out, buddy boy, I'ma floss ya
Stank bitch, shawty smell like an opossum
I'm drippin' ho' (drippin'), daddy Fiji (drip, yeah)
So damn clean, poppa squeegee
Got the funk, I'm the rap game Bee Gees
Raspberry wrist all blue, like the freezie
Bitch, I'm flossin', yeah
Cold stone wrist with the frosting
Gravy stone cold, Steve Austin
Pullin' up with your ho 'cause I'm saucin'
Like Steve Austin
Bitch, I been flossin'
I just wanna hit one time, yeah, one and done (ah)
Skinny jeans but my pockets on Big Pun (oh)
I rolled the blunt and put a perky-erky on her tongue (yuh)
After I fuck her, I'ma fuck her friend, then I'm done (done)
Stuff a hunnid in the box, fin it, that's a bomb (woo)
Havin' big cake, but I can't give a bitch a crumb (uh-uh)
Bought my mom a mansion 'cause she always wanted one (for real, though)
Dolph, you 'posed to do that shit, you her oldest son (for real, though)
Before rap, I hit the trap and I made a ton (for real, though)
I made a lot of guala before I ever made a song (ha)
I'm from the streets, I smoke blunts, I don't smoke out a bong (it's Dolph)
Got naked pictures of your bitch in my cellphone
Writer(s): Matthew Alan Crabtree, Adolph R. Thornton, Dilip Venkatesh, Jason Michael Rich, Matthew Hauri
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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