"Lost With Miami" lyrics
Ayy, yeah, spread them asscheeks, lemme lick that bootyhole
Lil' freaky thot bitch give me head while her baby 'sleep
Funny rap bars; behind doors, niggas play for keeps
Want me pay for pussy? Bitch, you childish like some baby teeth
I came up off SayCheese" but I ain't signed to C'est La Vie
I cut leechin' bitches off-you gotta pay to eat
Caught a STD and gave it to my bitch-could you pray for me?
Poured a six and drunk it by myself, I had to pay for sleep
Ayy, free Southwest T, Insha'Allah, we gotta pray for Meech
Droppin' hit after hit, but this not a Verzuz
Licked her bootyhole and rub her clit, I bet she get to squirtin'
Pay a bitch tuition, books, and bills before I buy 'em purses
Same bitches that said I was too fat-now them bitches flirtin'
Remember sellin' dope out that jimmy hat, a nigga vampin'
After I bust a nut, bitch, I'm hungry-go make me a sandwich
Pay to get a nigga noodles blew while I'm in the Hamptons
Million-dollar deal fresh out of postal, word to Naji Grampus
I got Snapchat-you can't get my number
Hella thugs in my clique-I feel like Wunna (Mm)
They got fake jewels: Brian Pumper
Got rich in six months, bitch, I'm feelin' like I'm Stunna
Independent, own my masters; record labels wanna penny me
You in her DM, beggin'; I'm in the middle like a centerpiece
I'm fuckin' bad bitches now, but I used to stick my dick in fiends
I text Offset and ask him: Can he plug me in with Hennessy?
They always askin', "Packman, why you still workin'?"
That's like askin' a trap nigga why he still servin'
I ain't rich yet-I still feel I gotta put the work in
I get off tour to split routes with Myesha Murray
Nah, real shit-I really need to quit
Niggas lyin' in they rap, ain't never seen a brick
Main bitch caught my car at the hotel and she keyed my shit
I came out, body-slammed her on her head, then I kneed the bitch
And I don't feel bad, no cap-she gotta pay for that
My nigga got a brick-he 'bout to tap it: It's a baby-back
She said that pussy Gucci, but I hit it: "Bitch, this Baby Phat"
She say she celibate; legs stay open: Tyler Creator gap
I got Snapchat-you can't get my number
Hella thugs in my clique, I feel like Wunna (Mm)
They got fake jewels: Brian Pumper
Got rich in six months, bitch, I'm feelin' like I'm Stunna
The Lunch Crew Company
Lil' freaky thot bitch give me head while her baby 'sleep
Funny rap bars; behind doors, niggas play for keeps
Want me pay for pussy? Bitch, you childish like some baby teeth
I came up off SayCheese" but I ain't signed to C'est La Vie
I cut leechin' bitches off-you gotta pay to eat
Caught a STD and gave it to my bitch-could you pray for me?
Poured a six and drunk it by myself, I had to pay for sleep
Ayy, free Southwest T, Insha'Allah, we gotta pray for Meech
Droppin' hit after hit, but this not a Verzuz
Licked her bootyhole and rub her clit, I bet she get to squirtin'
Pay a bitch tuition, books, and bills before I buy 'em purses
Same bitches that said I was too fat-now them bitches flirtin'
Remember sellin' dope out that jimmy hat, a nigga vampin'
After I bust a nut, bitch, I'm hungry-go make me a sandwich
Pay to get a nigga noodles blew while I'm in the Hamptons
Million-dollar deal fresh out of postal, word to Naji Grampus
I got Snapchat-you can't get my number
Hella thugs in my clique-I feel like Wunna (Mm)
They got fake jewels: Brian Pumper
Got rich in six months, bitch, I'm feelin' like I'm Stunna
Independent, own my masters; record labels wanna penny me
You in her DM, beggin'; I'm in the middle like a centerpiece
I'm fuckin' bad bitches now, but I used to stick my dick in fiends
I text Offset and ask him: Can he plug me in with Hennessy?
They always askin', "Packman, why you still workin'?"
That's like askin' a trap nigga why he still servin'
I ain't rich yet-I still feel I gotta put the work in
I get off tour to split routes with Myesha Murray
Nah, real shit-I really need to quit
Niggas lyin' in they rap, ain't never seen a brick
Main bitch caught my car at the hotel and she keyed my shit
I came out, body-slammed her on her head, then I kneed the bitch
And I don't feel bad, no cap-she gotta pay for that
My nigga got a brick-he 'bout to tap it: It's a baby-back
She said that pussy Gucci, but I hit it: "Bitch, this Baby Phat"
She say she celibate; legs stay open: Tyler Creator gap
I got Snapchat-you can't get my number
Hella thugs in my clique, I feel like Wunna (Mm)
They got fake jewels: Brian Pumper
Got rich in six months, bitch, I'm feelin' like I'm Stunna
The Lunch Crew Company
