McCandles - Shorts

I was on the porch
Sneakin' shorts
We was bored
Now we bouta' tour
Where my sword
Let em' talk some more
We can go to war
44
Pull up on your porch
Like 1944
Damn that boy so sore
Damn that boy so sour
Cause his bitch talm' bout
You bet' not touch the dial
Damn this shit is wild
Damn this shit is hot
Come from where it's hot
Come from where you not
Come from outta town
Move without a sound
Even in a crowd
We all need some crowns
We like fuck yo set
And still come correct
Foot is on they neck
Music on they head
Now they sound upset
I sound like a check
Give the beat some breath
Gave that bitch some head
Cause her bodies less
But she ain't bodyless
She too fine for that
So we kinda match
I was on the porch
Sneakin' shorts
Now we bouta tour
Where my sword
Let em talk some more
We can go to war
44
Pull up on ur porch
Like 1944
Damn that boy so sore
Damn that boy so sour
Damn she poppin complexion
I'm tryna see that naked
I just got me a weapon
Concealed possession
Yeah I'm riding with it
Lookin' like I Wesley
Talking Blade bitch
I might come through and I'm vamping
I might come through for the taxes
I might come through I can't relax, yeah
I might come through and bend her backwards
Gotta hit it with a Trojan
Damn I just really got it
If you ain't know you know it
Riding with a fuckin' three eight
You know it, bitch

Written by:
Jacob Bass

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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