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crames - roy halladay lyrics
[verse 1]
i might pull up in a supercharged golf-cart, face painted like i’m braveheart
hit a jump-split, while i rip a kush stick that i spliffed with some mugwort
i just split a ten strip with judy jetson and professor dumbledore
you can’t get up in my section. it is not gonna happen, why you tryna go through all this trouble for it?
b-tch i’m off a bean, sippin henny out a chalice
out in calabasis, at a crib look like a palace
whole team trained to keep it lowkey, homie you ain’t know nothing about us
shawty on me, acting real h-rny, tryna get a handful of my motherf-ckin’ apparatus
[hook]
these b-tches gon holla – it’s a holiday!
hit em with the curveball – roy halladay!
they’re worshipping the dad bod – like it’s father’s day!
but i don’t give a f-ck about em – i been mixing chronic, gin and tonic, and a lotta yay!
[verse 2]
boofed out my mu’f-ckin mind at the met front row for rigoletto
hat tilted like johnny cueto, between two dimes in red bottom stilettos
i got enough d-ck for both them to handle, get doubled like melo
i ain’t got no license, but i wanna cop me more whips than jay leno
i wanna trip on some boomers size of portobellos, change up my world like creflo
y’all m-th-f-ckas like crames got some rare flow, hop on the mic and give you hoes an earful
lil’ b-tch, be careful, come at me sidways got fists for your temples
all of these b-tches be worshipping crames, yeah my b-lls are even more holy than wiffles
b-tch, game over. i’m winning and goin’ dummy, gunnin for more money, more food in this big tummy
she getting this d-ck from me, and every time she be coming she look at me all funny
quit playin’ with me, buddy, you know that my team nutty
if you keep acting fishy you might just get gutted
if i’m being honest, i’m sorry your b-tch want it, cuz she ain’t gonna get this sh-t, it’s beyond her
but you should be honored if were to freak on her, cuz if we talking millions my p-n-s worth three hundred
that’s why all of these hoes holla even though i don’t want em, i just sit back, sip my drank, and curveball em
[hook]
these b-tches gon holla – it’s a holiday!
hit em with the curveball – roy halladay!
they’re worshipping the dad bod – like it’s father’s day!
but i don’t give a f-ck about em – i been mixing chronic, gin and tonic, and a lotta yay!
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