1-800-SMD
1-800-SMD

Shotgun Willy - 1-800-SMD Lyrics

Aug 6, 2021
25
1-800-SMD Music Video

1-800-SMD Lyrics

I'm a rockstar tryna fuck a pornstar
And I keep a blade light, Sword Art Online
How'd you get a sports car? I don't know, it's not mine
Any more questions? Please, hit my hotline

At 1-800 suck a motherfuckin' dick
Please, call me up, please, call me up
I'm young McLovin, got a super bad bitch
She want me, yeah, she want me, yeah
If I don't pick up, leave a voicemail
Rooftop chillin' at the hotel
Whole game on my back like Odell
Can't keep up, tell 'em, "Oh, well"

Now I fuck with bitches and money and that's it
You don't like the shit that I'm makin', then suck dick
Carti man, Rick, bunch of motherfuckers on the ride up on my wave
Out the way 'fore I slap a pussy boy like Brad Pitt, shit
Mama raised a boy to be a pimp, pimp
Fur coat vibin' at the Ritz, Ritz
Good role model for the kids, kids
Willy went and made another hit
Last date that I had was a court date
I'm hard, you soft like sorbet
Not parfait, no foreplay
You be lookin' sweet like a strawberry shortcake
Who you think is next up, I'm better
I got drank in my cup like Bender
That boy said that I suck, whatever
I got riches switched up, Bruce Jenner

At 1-800 suck a motherfuckin' dick
Please, call me up, please, call me up
I'm young McLovin, got a super bad bitch
She want me, yeah, she want me, yeah
If I don't pick up, leave a voicemail
Rooftop chillin' at the hotel
Whole game on my back like Odell
Can't keep up, tell 'em, "Oh, well"

I don't like you, you, you
Hear the phone ring, ring, ring
Everything new, new, new
Lookin' like a king, king, king
Money stack tall, tall, tall
I'm talkin' Yao Ming, Ming, Ming
Fuck it, we ball, ball, ball
I told that boy swing, swing, swing
I'm soundin' like hey, batter, batter, hey, batter, batter
Then I watch his brain splatter, splatter, brain splatter, splatter
On my way up like a ladder, no chitter-chatter
I don't give a fuck, it don't matter 'less it make my pockets fatter
You could hear the pitter-patter tappin', I'm at your door
And I'm attached with a piece of chrome, I'm just so happy to know it
That you were lackin' while my GPS was trackin' your home
And I sent it back and if you have it, tell him call at my phone

Writer(s): Joshua Trent Williams
Copyright(s): Lyrics © TUNECORE INC, TuneCore Inc., Songtrust Ave
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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