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 #

mista cain - regular lyrics

[intro: mista cain]
godd-mn look
pull up, pull up, yeah

[chorus: mista cain]
you might be cute but you regular
b-tch eat my d-ck like an edible
my line be bumpin’, i’m tellin’ you
i just sold a brick on the cellular
i’m rockin’ the iced out perpetual
she tryna fit in my schedule
b-tch you being too technical
this time i might go federal
you might be cute but you regular
b-tch eat my d-ck like an edible
my line be bumpin’, i’m tellin’ you
i just sold a brick on the cellular
i’m rockin’ the iced out perpetual
she tryna fit in my schedule
b-tch you being too technical
this time i might go federal

[verse 1: mista cain]
in the bentley with the ‘ooly, make me send you to the medical
n-gga better not ever try to p-ss a blunt of regular
i got two b-tches want a threesome, fit ’em in my schedule
yeah, plus them hoes freaky and they flexible
lebron cain in the post, i just got a technical
gucci on my collar but my air mags regular
crib like the white house, all white sectional
this rollie not a regular, it’s iced out perpetual (uh)
just bought a pint of that act (uh)
you might be cute but you whack (uh)
i done been through a few racks (uh)
she just wan’ kiss on me tats (yeah)
keep a big bag of blues on the regular
so much work in here, i might go federal, lil cain

[verse 2: wnc whop bezzy]
b-tch you regular, i can’t even put you on my schedule
your dude try me then i’m sending shots like i’m a messanger
and i don’t do no phones, b-tch i ain’t textin’ you
and b-tch i ain’t the lord so i ain’t blessin’ you
and yeah i hit your b-tch so why you question her?
pull up in the coupe, the top come off, this b-tch a teskla
your b-tch know i’m a g, that’s why i’m f-ing her
you act like you can’t hear me, what you deaf or some’?
what you tryna play me to the left or some’?
you think it’s a game, what you a ref or some’?
smokin’ on that pressure, make my head hurt
oh you on that regular, let me show you how that yay work
giuseppes on my feet, check out the leg work
stop askin’ all them questions, give me head first
don’t make me drop a bag, n-gga that’s dead work

- mista cain lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS