allblack – canadian goose lyrics
[intro]
uhdon, i’m ’bout to run this motherf-cker
oh my god
[verse]
i can’t police no b-tch, i just p-ss ’em and laugh
at 15 was on the blade, should’ve been up in cl-ss
i’m a sc-m son of a b-tch, trade p-ssy for cash
stripper renegading a f-g, i be doing ’em bad
got a freak in my front seat with her feet on the dash
i love a swipin’ -ss b-tch who stay in the lab
you can’t cook, you don’t clean, all you offer is -ss?
b-tch grab your coat and hit the door ’cause i’m through with your -ss
play the broke role, i ain’t got it, just to test a b-tch
and i always free a b-tch to get a better b-tch
that better b-tch got more hustle than a wetter b-tch
and that square b-tch won’t bust a date like a go-getter b-tch
quick to slide in your dm’s, quick to see what’s happenin’
quick to send my first and last name, moneygram a thousand
quick to free the b-tch ‘fore christmas, i’m so f-ckin’ childish
quick to beef it up to that future, ain’t no way around it
i’m finna start walking around with that diamond tester
and everybody claiming they flip bricks and f-ck with hector
sippin’ quali’ and fake act ’cause they don’t know no better
when them pints get here from texas i’ma change the weather
quick to pull a n-gga card, quick to up the steel
quick to phone up lil tyrin for them xan pills
i’m the goat at running plays, two minute drills
all my b-tches got on cleats, they don’t trap in heels
i’m an alpha male in these streets, real as they come
22nd and foothill, up the street from the ones
you either hustle or you starve, you a boss or a bum
morris sams gave me the game, don’t compare me to none
i got more rank than every n-gga rappin’ on the mic
ask quas and drini man, i’m a fool on the dice
g-star, what type of shoes b-tch, shermans or mikes?
throw on that free the b-tch shirt that’s sponsored by trife
twenty n-ggas in the club, they came with obama
all the b-tches love us, n-ggas never want the problems
if we do we got some shorties who would love to solve ’em
so you don’t want that cold weather on your baby mama
it get cold in the o, canadian goose
my new t–th is rose gold, five hundred a tooth
follow me on snap, you think i’m lying, i’ll dm the proof
slide through my hood, i bet them snipers hit you from the roof
high as f-ck, don’t wanna crash off this trife juice
[outro]
stop playin’ with me man
already told you n-ggas how i’m comin’ cuh
i don’t even know why n-ggas size up with me
bg -ss n-ggas, who the f-ck you sizin’ up with?
it don’t make no difference
if i’m in a vintage t-shirt or if i’m in a flannel, stop playin’
scott, thank you for f-ckin’ with me
feezy what’s happenin’ p?
kimson
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