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stanwill - puzzled lyrics
[intro]
militia, that’s on every song
dog sh_t militia, that’s on every song
sh_ttyboyz, dog sh_t militia, that’s on every song
yeah
[verse]
summertime, we was pullin’ up in long sleeves
all my n_ggas rich, she tryna f_ck the whole team
if it ain’t ’bout no pape’, i’m finna watch the phone ring
be done shot the lips off his face, he say the wrong thing
heart cold, chain froze, had to drop the goose coat
puzzled in the coupe, i’m lookin’ up like where the roof go?
bro be scorin’, he a spot up shooter, he don’t hoop, though
played her like an instrumеnt, she blew me likе a flute, though
heat tucked, i turn miami beach to the ftx
ksubis saggin’ ’cause the pockets stuffed with a hefty check
pull up on your b_tch in fendi wear, i bet she f me next
you would be done passed through this b_tch, better not test me, neph’
mike amiris skinny than a b_tch with pistol pokin’ out
joke’s up, smoke him like some runtz and see who jokin’ now
i ain’t never voted in my life, but keep a pole around
bnb with three hoes on my b_lls, they think i’m bowlin’ now
bape zipped, i can’t see a d_mn thing
catchin’ ham after ham, b_tch, i’m on a scam page
you won’t catch me without bread, b_tch, i’m like some mayonnaise
unky said he stuck to the cut like a band_aid
huh, on the road, half sleep, got me missin’ x’s
step in big_ass sneaks, these some triple_s’s
glocky or the chop, i’m poppin’ out with different weapons
get a n_gga bubble blew, i bet he get the f_ckin’ message
r.i.p. virgil, it’s an x on me but it’s f_ck my ex
blow a hole through f_ckin’ brain let him touch my neck
we on collins ave, b_tches lookin’ at his jumpin’ bits
all scam season long, got sh_t stuffed in techs
fightin’ demons with a palm angel joggy on
b_tch, the scam jack not the phone you can call me on
pretty face but i’m still f_ckin’ doggy, though
take me to the er ’cause your baby sick of all these hoes
unc’ addicted, every day, it’s pop with the wock’ mix
say it’s on the floor then bro gon’ clean him with the mop stick
never been the type to cop a plea, i go and cop sticks
bape hoodie for seven but the gucci flops six
i’m too busy touchin’ pape’, you won’t see me in no party
gotta know i got the face if you see me with your darling
threw hibachi on my plate if you ever see me starvin’
keep a glocky on my waist ’cause n_ggas thinkin’ i’m a target
[outro]
yeah, sh_ttyboyz
(real sh_ttyboyz sh_t, she gon’ f_ck ’cause the sh_ttyboyz lit, dumbass)
(that’s what you gotta know)
(yeah, though)
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