"Sneaky Beat VS PACKMAN" lyrics
(The Lunch Crew Company)
Y'ello
I wasn't even gon' do this shit, but y'all just kept tagging me
Fuck it, let's go
Fill a tub up with lean, then baptize me
I need the hospital, told the doc I got a rack problem
Let's go Mr. Spitting That Shit, you better ask 'bout me
Especially if you don't mind coming up off fat mama
Your big homie is a bitch, he just act violent
Hit Turks, crack fine shit and a cracked lobster
Fifty-pointer necklace got me walking 'round with back problems
She think my dick little 'cause I'm fat, I got a fat private
I can't be quiet on a creep nigga
Saucy tried to fuck me, told that boy I ain't no freak, nigga
Pockets full of dog shit, I don't need tissue
I ain't talkin' 'bout no DV when you hear me say I beat women
When we fuck, that's when bae get violent with me
In Florida with the freaks, DBJ and Luh Tyler with me
Pulled my gun out, he asked me if I got a lighter with me
You know the bitch can't cook if her granny and her mama skinny
Huh, I need some heavy shit
Surprise me with a pint, bitch, I knew your ass was heaven-sent
I misspelled "Gorgeous," hold on, bae, let me edit it
She lied to you, gang, man, there's always a better bitch
Right, I'ma upload this song with no mix on it
I bossed my own life up, I never had a big homie
Either it's Percs or bed bugs, I don't know, I got that itch on me
Call my bitch R. Kelly 'cause I love when she piss on me
Hmm, mhm, yeah, squirt, bitch
You gotta learn to shut the fuck up or we ain't gon' work, bitch
I'm on antibiotics, can't drink 'cause I'm burnt, bitch
Ain't nothing like some pussy from a broken-hearted hurt bitch
Huh, Maybach the same color as some dog food
Bitch, answer your phone, I need somebody I could talk to
Hmm, it cost sixty-five hundred for a walk-through
I'd rather buy the pussy, love, I ain't never bought nudes
Maybach the same color as some heroin
Touch my jewels, blow a nigga down with these bare arms
My spot got gas, you don't even need a Chevron
Bitch, this pussy weak, she tryna blame it 'cause the air on
Y'ello
Niggas play, they lay, that's what you gotta know
That's all you got?
Oh, what you— oh, I can, I can go on
Niggas be broke out here, broke
Go date your kind
Get up with your kind
If you can't get up with your kind, don't, don't go for it then
That ain't your tax bracket
And I'm not in the tax bracket
Y'ello
Y'ello
I wasn't even gon' do this shit, but y'all just kept tagging me
Fuck it, let's go
Fill a tub up with lean, then baptize me
I need the hospital, told the doc I got a rack problem
Let's go Mr. Spitting That Shit, you better ask 'bout me
Especially if you don't mind coming up off fat mama
Your big homie is a bitch, he just act violent
Hit Turks, crack fine shit and a cracked lobster
Fifty-pointer necklace got me walking 'round with back problems
She think my dick little 'cause I'm fat, I got a fat private
I can't be quiet on a creep nigga
Saucy tried to fuck me, told that boy I ain't no freak, nigga
Pockets full of dog shit, I don't need tissue
I ain't talkin' 'bout no DV when you hear me say I beat women
When we fuck, that's when bae get violent with me
In Florida with the freaks, DBJ and Luh Tyler with me
Pulled my gun out, he asked me if I got a lighter with me
You know the bitch can't cook if her granny and her mama skinny
Huh, I need some heavy shit
Surprise me with a pint, bitch, I knew your ass was heaven-sent
I misspelled "Gorgeous," hold on, bae, let me edit it
She lied to you, gang, man, there's always a better bitch
Right, I'ma upload this song with no mix on it
I bossed my own life up, I never had a big homie
Either it's Percs or bed bugs, I don't know, I got that itch on me
Call my bitch R. Kelly 'cause I love when she piss on me
Hmm, mhm, yeah, squirt, bitch
You gotta learn to shut the fuck up or we ain't gon' work, bitch
I'm on antibiotics, can't drink 'cause I'm burnt, bitch
Ain't nothing like some pussy from a broken-hearted hurt bitch
Huh, Maybach the same color as some dog food
Bitch, answer your phone, I need somebody I could talk to
Hmm, it cost sixty-five hundred for a walk-through
I'd rather buy the pussy, love, I ain't never bought nudes
Maybach the same color as some heroin
Touch my jewels, blow a nigga down with these bare arms
My spot got gas, you don't even need a Chevron
Bitch, this pussy weak, she tryna blame it 'cause the air on
Y'ello
Niggas play, they lay, that's what you gotta know
That's all you got?
Oh, what you— oh, I can, I can go on
Niggas be broke out here, broke
Go date your kind
Get up with your kind
If you can't get up with your kind, don't, don't go for it then
That ain't your tax bracket
And I'm not in the tax bracket
Y'ello
