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dc2trill - sh%t talkin’ story (shit talkin’ story) lyrics
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[intro]
(nick on the track)
[verse]
i know this one n_gga’s [?] he sell lemon squeeze (yeah)
i like all my lean raw like i’m j_panese
this coffee cup got a four in it, b_tch, this ain’t no frappuccin’
overseas, i sneak and do drugs like i’m charlie sheen
porsche with the frog eyes same color as coffee cream
sipped a six just today, n_gga, it ain’t no cough in me
i’ma see fifty m’s flat before they coffin me
outside his house in all black like the reaper be (yeah)
b_tches treating me like b2k way back in the day
same b_tches way back in the gap wouldn’t give me no play
throw a party in your b_tch guts just like [?][0:43]
just ran off on this n_gga named ray in a mysterious way (d_mn)
one thing about it (yeah), i’ma talk my sh_t (yeah)
i’m in miami smoking gas, n_gga, that’s period
your b_tch say she ain’t out her f_cking, n_gga, but her ceiling’s hit
my young n_gga going crazy with that ball on his krillin sh_t
we got them same guns, that’s on gta
he gon’ diss and apologize, we know how b_tches play (yeah)
i don’t usually take percs, but i’ve been on them b_tches for like twenty days
been torching this n_gga since his son was two, he turned six today
he used to have a stage name, now that n_gga gary payton
country n_gga, big boss stature like my cousin payton
he tried to ball like me, he got a fracture, n_gga, stop playing
chopper set his ass on fire like he super saiyan
smoking on a big blunt of meds, this sh_t sticky icky
i don’t want sh_t from your b_tch, that ho icky vicky
better have your forty in the field, this sh_t get tricky
n_ggas be mouse, mama should’ve named you mickey
shot a n_gga with a forty and he ain’t die, so i got my fifty
go to elliot, ice out my t__th and eye, your sh_t looking missy
hundred degrees, i still got my fire if they out to get me
punched him in his eye and made him cry like mike tyson in me
b_tch said h_llo like three times, i still don’t want the kitty
b_tches be lying to the naked eye, insta getting tricky
hope all my dawgs go to heaven, i’m not mike vick
made that boy see the reaper, but i’m not three 6
smoked a half ounce of ether, you gotta taste this sh_t
sucked the d_ck with her hands and brain, she’s a gracious b_tch
n_gga been rapping for like fifteen years, he still ain’t making it (phew)
i was in the same position, lil moe would be taking sh_t
roll up on some gracious sh_t
ain’t passing sh_t, i’m facing it
drank man got them cases in
i made him a rich man
n_gga, you’s a b_tch man
lil moe got a sixth sense
he got smoked, now he got a sick scent
f_ck n_ggas got me bent
your b_tch wilding out just like nick
you can’t stay, b_tch, this ain’t nick at nite
they ain’t let me in with my glizzy, so, b_tch, i got my knife
mobbing like the thief at night
some of my n_ggas sending kites
stepping, b_tch, i did it right
n_gga tried to pick a fight
he ain’t know i had it on me
now he laying next to his homie
crying ’cause they cold and lonely
bone thug, i did ’em ruggish
99.9 of these n_ggas bogus
i’m just trying to stay focused
f_cked up, my heart the coldest
rolling that flower, not no lotus
[outro]
one thing about it (yeah), i’ma talk my sh_t (yeah)
i’m in miami smoking gas, n_gga, that’s period
your b_tch say she ain’t out her f_cking, n_gga, but her ceiling’s hit
my young n_gga going crazy with that ball on his krillin sh_t
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