a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

jarren benton - judge mathis lyrics

[produced by: 8track]

[verse 1: jarren benton]
through the lights, cameras, the action
glammers, glitters, and gold
so much money that my paper won’t fold
shooting game at these hoes
like i’m bishop, magic, done one
out in hong kong, eating stuffed wontons
with this dumb blonde
east side, that’s where i come from
doctor lecter, b-tch
i move effortless, actavis in my beverage, b-tch
i murder beats like a terrorist, get a therapist
this mac’ll make a p-ssy n-gga do a pirouette
standing on top of pyramids, watching these snakes slither quick
my b-tch could make her p-ssy toke a couple cigarettes
i bet i be more than n-gga rich
gun powder in my pits, kibbles and bits
the champagne fizzles a bit
mister benton, i’m invisible b-tch
keep an icepick to chisel a pr-ck
she discovered my discography, she listens to rittz
i gave her a couple hits and now she’s licking my d-ck
yeah, smooth as a gator on a block of ice
tough guys get chop chopped with a pocket knife
i’m on the grind tryna get these f-cking pockets right
helicopters hover the block at night
crack head, stuck to lucifer’s noose
another warm saturday, i take the roof off the coupe
i’m drinking again, i guess i mixed the juice and the goose
i c-m in your b-tch’s hair, she say she use it as mousse
watching judge mathis, flicking ashes on these n-gga’s fabric
riding with a dime piece in a vintage maverick
i just copped a time machine, and a new bugatti
just cause they dress like f-ggots, they ain’t illuminati

[verse 2: poundz]
a drug dealer’s dream, cup filled with lean
[?] stuffed to the seams
green, power time, all i see is dollar signs
[?] you get out of line, take you out your olive nines
f-ck, ocean view in the hands
tell the b-tch cook something, throw some food in the pan
then i send her home with the scent of my d-ck
i’m a beast, i’m a dog, get the vet when i’m sick
sh-t, i’m too fat to fit in the panamera
strappers lit, these rappers b-tching, they ran [?]
from the attic era, ‘matic in the hammer bearer
smash your [?], rub my baby batter in like aloe vera
bet she told you she ain’t like fat guys
till i got her that high, plug like a flash drive
crushed in a cab ride, f-ck, let the cash fly
king sh-t, getting sucked, eating bad thai
murder for the chips again, burn em for the dividends
tailor made [?], birkin for my women friends
i got monetary obsessions, got to carry a weapon
they plot on my very essence
i’m from the bottom and i’m glad we are
you know straight honda civics, no caddy cars
i turned a stogey to a grand daddy [?]
and now it’s all about the xanny bars and caviar
rappers talk suspicious, like they bought some viscous
boy how you the weight man? you washing dishes
how many rappers really get it fore they get in
my yellow gold cuban make these rappers tuck they sh-t in
b-tch

- jarren benton lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS