Billie

Kid Buu a demon
Yeah, yeah
Oohdem Beatz
You ain’t really eatin', boy, your pockets look anemic
All these rappers are my sons, I feel like Billie Jean, yeah
Try to run up, not the one, that blicky in my jeans, yeah
All these racks, I got it on me, can’t fit in my jeans, yeah
You ain’t really eatin', boy, your pockets look anemic
All these rappers are my sons, I feel like Billie Jean, yeah
Try to run up, not the one, that blicky in my jeans, yeah
All these racks, I got it on me, can’t fit in my jeans, yeah
Heard you ain’t gettin' no racks, heard you’ve been chillin' with rats, yeah
I keep my racks in the bank, all of my niggas yell «Slatt!»
I got a strap, it’s a MAC, I hit that ho' before I go to the bank
I hit that ho' thenI don’t call her back
She said she need percs cause I’m hurtin' her back
That pussy wet but that pussy don’t stink
I got the water, like sink
Fuck what a fuck nigga think
I’m everything that a fuck nigga ain’t
Kid Buu a demon but my bitch a saint
The Saint Laurent, it go good with the Mink
I’m poppin' on percs and smokin' on dank
I’m off a bean and I’m sippin' on drank
I’m off a seal, I ain’t talkin' 'bout state
We cleaned you, I ain’t talkin' 'bout slate
We got the cake, I ain’t talkin' 'bout baked
Countin' big racks and they only blue face
Still with Gorillas, not talkin' 'bout Bape
I got the strap, like a lesbian babe
I got that smoke, that boy don’t want no vape
Can’t save a ho', I don’t own me a cape
You ain’t really eatin', boy, your pockets look anemic
All these rappers are my sons, I feel like Billie Jean, yeah
Try to run up, not the one, that blicky in my jeans, yeah
All these racks, I got it on me, can’t fit in my jeans, yeah
You ain’t really eatin', boy, your pockets look anemic
All these rappers are my sons, I feel like Billie Jean, yeah
Try to run up, not the one, that blicky in my jeans, yeah
All these racks, I got it on me, can’t fit in my jeans, yeah