Divine the Chef - Parkin' Lot Sippin'

Aye man, say man
Took a perc, throw on the ray-bans
I heard it's a drought, do the rain dance
I apply pressure like fake Xans
Get to the bag like Joe Nathan
How he not high, he smoked 8 grams
I will not lie I got 8 friends
Went and invested like 8 bands
Like NFTs, and JPGs, tell a bitch ass nigga don't play with me,
Hit the hoe, on her line, ask her come kick it like PSG
I'm on LSD, I took LSD, my bitch like, what do ya' third eye see
This not FanDuel, bitch, we do not parlay for the free
Butter roll, tell my lil bae I wan' lick her hole (Wan' lick it)
Me and my bro used to share a pole (One stick it)
Niggas they sweeter than Haribo's
I'm in the paint and I'm throwin' bows (Throwin' 'em, throwin' em)
I kill any nigga, like Leopold
He wanted a t shirt, so we talk in code
Then we go rob his ass down the road (Uhh, uhh)
I swang in the rain like I'm Paul Wall
I wan' fuck her, she call off (She do)
She gon' gnaw both of my balls off
Cuddle my bitch 'til she knod off
Cuddle my racks I won't fall off
I'm on the block nigga, all ball
The ref upset lookin for foul calls
Where the tech, nigga I just wanna

Written by:
R. Nelson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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