jawn skiez - Grapevine (feat. Kissedtj)

Bitches keep dreaming, but you know that you will never be
Jawnie to the bloom,Tj body hoes effortlessly
Bitches playing telephone, twenty-seven missed calls
Tj, jawn skiez make these hoes shit drawls
Jealousy's a killer, feel it coming from they waistline
Big bull shit, but ian beefing through no facetime
Race time, speeding past Molasses with my savagery
Taste time, they call me jawnie lipton, and you average tea
So you a no-go, I came to see the talent, and i showed up to some no shows
Big three shit, but it ain't shit to run up solo
Might fuck with that Puerto Rican make her call me papi, chulo
Cant save the world, but i'll really let my, blu-go
But They not fucking with jawnie bloom, oh, you know
And is they jocking jawnie blooms logo, who knows?
I'm not equipped to give the copy cat hoes, cudos
Too grown, to get hoed
I'll be knocking at yo door, door, door
Spooking bitches with the madness in my insane flows
Whatever jawn say goes, whore
So you could never pick a part this
Fake hoes, pick a role, pick a damn part bitch
Been hawt and you not boo
This rap game done forgot you
Fuck you and who you talk to
Fuck you and yo lil flop crew
Been hawt and you not boo
Top two and i'm not two
Get gone and don't get got
Fuck you and yo lil' flop crew
Please don't get it twisted, (nah) i am not the problem
But if we got a problem, (yeah), we can solve em
How you talk shit located at six feet at the bottom
At the bottom, you said to get a hit and never got em
Riding to the bank, checking out my pape line
Think you on my tax bracket, you out ya rabbit ass mind
I heard you tryna sabotage jawn's top shine
Don't ask about the source, i heard it through the grape, vine
(Yeah)
Vine
(Yeah)
Uh, Uh, Uh, riding to the bank, checking out my papeline
Think you in my tax bracket, you out your rabbit ass mind
I heard you trying to sabotage jawns top shine
Don't ask about the source, i heard it through the grape, vine
(Gum) gum machine bars, bitches ran me out of quarters
Want my cake and eat it too, you know the best part is the corners
I be laying ho's to rest, i think we need to call the coroner
All these bitches is bricks, they getting dull around the corners
Everybody wants a baller
Everybody wants the luxury to be with a shot-caller
Everybody brain top tier, graduated harvard
TJ starved her
Surrogating all these bitches, they my son i'm not the father
Bowl when i eat, that's how i knock these bitches pens (pins) out
Ho's is giving cornish they forgot to bring the hens out
Pretty little body then you know i gots do dig out, pig out
Scalping these bitches go get the wigs out
Bitch in the illest, put on for all of my niggas
It's double c's on the clicket
They know that TJ the sickets
Riding down in my ford
Dry erase em no board
I give em dick and a ticket, ya uber coming at four, uh

Written by:
Jonathan Harris, Terrance Phillips

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find