
mel v - gift of gab lyrics
[intro]
brr, chappo
glock, glock, glock could gentrify a n+gga, make his ass move?
ca+call me ludacris, i’ll pull a b+tch and act a fool
i post a pic and make him sick, i’ll make your ho drool
i be wildin’ out from time to time, that’s why i keep my cool
big body range rover, b+tch you in a mini coupe
you say that he like my swag, he f+ck with my attitude
ba+baby let me twist your dreads, i think that i’m feelin’ you
me and you, we stayin’ tuned
smoke one blank, go straight to the moon
i’m in a big+ass car go vroom
i got a glock, yeah, i got a tool
bad ass b+tch, i don’t play by the rules
lean in my cup, i don’t f+ck with no booze
smoke me a blunt and feel like a masseuse
i’m off the woods, my body real loose
yeah, i’m off the woods, i’m feelin’ good
poppin’ sh+t like a bad b+tch should
hop on the beat and i k!ll it like, ugh
get in my mood when i’m off of that blood
you talkin’ sh+t, lil’ b+tch, just shut up
b+tch, i’m the girl, i’m the top one runner
i’m in the booth like nike, the sunner
bad+ass b+tch, i’m a motherf+ckin’ stunner
[verse]
i+i be flexin’ h+lla hard like i was a bodybuilder
i can tell that you a b+tch tryna move like you a k!ller
i be stayin’ out the way i’m countin’ guap i want the skrillex
i could duck off anytime and just pop out like that n+gga
yes, i know that i’m that b+tch, i strike a pose, i take a fl!ck
at my shows, b+tch, i be lit
all these hoes tryna take a pic
this like 5k on my wrist
b+tch, it’s slow, i’m moving swift
bad b+tch, skinny jeans
got me walking with a twist
i don’t f+ck with lame n+ggas
can’t believe we co+exist
i put gravel in my weave
b+tch, i’m dizzy off that sh+t
i be doing hoes wrong
i ain’t sh+t, i must admit
always bringing up the past
and why the f+ck you don’t leave, b+tch?
always with that nagging sh+t
b+tch, i can’t come for trashy, b+tch
i heard n+ggas hating on me
i don’t care, b+tch, suck a d+ck
got my name up in your mouth, b+tch, i’ll slap it out your lips
yeah, i feel just like a virgin, you ain’t f+ckin’ with me, b+tch
you ain’t f+ckin’ with this swag, i told the glock i keep a bag
really came up out of nothin’, i ain’t even had no racks
i’m still tryna get them riches, but i ain’t f+cked up on my ass
i just want them millions and so much money off of grab
i’m obsessed with benjamins, i’m feelin’ like i miss the crabs
only time i miss a b+tch, is if i swing and miss the jab
you can’t knock me off my pivot, i’m forever on they ass
i’m so f+ckin’ top notch, god gave me the gift of gab (what?)
[outro]
chappo
yeah, yeah
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