Chief Keef, Mike WiLL Made It and Sexyy Red - DAMN SHORTY

He like, "How you fit that ass in them pants?"
You wanna see me buck, you better have them bands
I'm with my bitches so you gotta bring some friends
I'm a dog, I ain't tryna do the romance (Trap-a-Holics, real trap shit)
It's Sexyy
(This Chicago, nigga)
Damn shorty, this one ain't even on purpose man
Damn shorty, shoot on accident
Damn shorty, I thought about it, like damn
Damn shorty, ayy, damn shorty
Damn shorty, I'll tell you myself, though (Young Rari)

How you fit that Glock in them tight ass pants, shorty? (Trap-a-holics)
They like how you get it, damn shorty (ayy)
How you pullin' up in the Lamb', shorty? (Ayy)
Niggas like who that at the door, my damn shorties (ayy)
We'll shoot your ass while you on cam, shorty (ayy)
If we can't get you, we gon' get your fam, shorty (ayy)
I'm like Tracy come out cut and slam shorty (ayy)
Me and gang in LA, we'll ram shorty (ayy) (real trap shit)
Oh, I can't come to your city? I'm finna land, shorty (ayy)
I'll pop you, we ain't throwin' hands, shorty (ayy)
I'll turn your ass a new strand, shorty (ayy)
I'm off Tooka, we don't do the Xans, shorty
Damn shorty, damn shorty
Make the chopper sing, Big Baby DRAM, shorty (ayy)
We'll catch you in the club, Sam shorty (ayy)
Get to sprayin' cookin' butter, Pam, shorty (ayy)
Damn shorty, damn shorty
We just watchin' out for Uncle Sam, shorty (ayy)
They like Sosa, "When you get that Lamb', shorty?" (Ayy)
You already know what I am, shorty (uh)

He like, "How you fit that ass in them pants?" (yeah)
You wanna see me buck, you better have them bands (buck)
I'm with my bitches so you gotta bring some friends
I'm a dog, I ain't tryna do the romance
I'm a real fine bitch and I got that bag (wop, wop)
Hoes don't play with me, 'cause I get on they ass (on they top)
I like to hop up in my car and drive it fast (yoom)
Ain't pullin' over, we outside, fuck the task (skrrt-skrrt, skrrt-skrrt)
My coochie good, that's why I got two baby dads
I hate a lyin'-ass nigga, I'll flash
Don't turn me up, you know I get to actin' bad
I tell my hoes when you with me, the world mad (yeah)
Yeah, I'm rich, but I like to chill out on the block (I'm hood)
He wanna hang with me but he ain't got no Glock
I'm doin' donuts while I'm pullin' off the lot
And I ain't hidin' from these bitches, fuck the opps (it's Sexyy)

Damn shorty, damn shorty
You should already know I rep' my gang, shorty
You already know I don't tuck no chain, shorty (ayy)
You can't hang, shorty, you tuck your chain, shorty (ayy)
You was tryna hang, shorty, got your dumbass banged shorty (uh)
We ain't playin' around, shorty, this ain't no game, shorty (ayy)
On a roof feel, like I'm on a crane, shorty (ayy)
You be rockin' where? Boy, you ain't Dame, shorty (ayy)
I was on the CTA bus and a train, shorty
Never got big-headed since I got fame, shorty (ayy, I got fame)
You dropped your location, then we came, shorty (ayy, came)
'Fore we kill you, we gon' give you that pain, shorty (give ya that pain)
They threw me in the booth, told me go insane, shorty (du-du-duh)
Got Hermes umbrella in case it rain, shorty
Ridin' around your city with me and my same shorties (same shorties)
Finna come bowl on you, better stay in your lane shorty (ayy, lane shorty)

Written by:
Keith Cozart, Michael Len Williams II

Publisher:
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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