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wolf tits - michael jortsan lyrics
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[verse 1: jakob owens]
rap game’s michael jordan
i always ball in jorts son
sp-ce jam and we monsters
so put us on your roster
breaking ankles like the big “o”
call me mister oscar, jop gonna win an oscar
steal your cookies like a robber
f-ck the timberwolves we the team of the real wolves ho
my mustache has magical powers
wolf t-ts you’ll jam for hours
jop and dave capp we’re raver wolves and now we rap
i named my d-ck pistol pete cause he busts quick, and my johnson’s magic
white boy john stockton
i’m balling in some moccasins
got the [?] so i’m ballin’ like kareem there ain’t no stopping him
dribble dribble now bounce p-ss
i’m dropping dimes like steve nash
wait david, uh, hold up i found a dime!
[verse 2: dave cappa]
catch me in some j’s
shooting fade-away’s
faded from the j
hoes call me timmy hardaway
i’m like 5’1″ [???]
[? ? ? ? ?]
stupid short i’m big headed
nba jam
slam dunk your b-tch, break her backboard
now shes team wolf t-ts
p-ss her off to jop
now we call that an -ssist
j is h-lla proper, 1080 christ air looking like a helicopter
[? ? ? ? ?]
jop drop 203, first player on 2k3
got signed by nyc, made a mil’ before twenty three
as for me i’m oklahoma city’s favorite baller
so i pull up in my 64 impala
[hook]
michael jortsan [x3]
michael michael jortsan (b-tch)
michael jortsan [x3]
michael michael jortsan (b-tch)
michael (b-tch)[x4]
michael micheal jortsan b-tch! (blaow)
crank that wolf t-ts, crank that wolf t-ts, crank that wolf t-ts
crank that, crank that wolf t-ts [x2]
[verse 3: sk4mc]
halftime getting head under the bleachers
(from your girl)
what the f-ck i got a white stain on my raptors
when i step out getting love like faizon
they don’t know i rap, they just see my j’s on
paychecks in my closet, shout-out unemployment
if i was ever homeless, my feet would still enjoy it
i ball like i’m jordan
i look like i’m marlin
your girl got her hands in my pants and she balling
my crossover is heavy, so if you’re not ready, your ankles get broken like new orleans levees, that’s heavy
[verse 4: kyle]
its ty jeffers
schooling mother f’ers
shooting with my eyes closed, i do it with no effort
hotter than a pepper
doing suicides in a hundred degree weather
wearing 47 sweaters
(agghhhhh)
i’m hot
from the half court line yelling shots
you wanna know how you spell team?
t-y- jeffers (b-tch)
[hook]
(wolves howling)
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