stanwill & kasher quon – show & tell lyrics
[intro: stanwill]
(ooh, it’s bluestrip, baby)
look like i ain’t got no—, yeah
[verse 1: stanwill]
look like i ain’t got no crib in this rick hoodie
fl!ck the switchie on that b+tch, turn the bl!ck fully
drunk as h+ll, had the valet bring the whip to me
you don’t see me in the booth, i’m probably in your b+tch p+ssy
[verse 2: kasher quon]
backpack boyz in my ‘wood, this ain’t [?]
i’ve been scammin’ nine years straight, you still a rookie
you was a b+tch five years ago, you still a [?]
this h+llcat a striker, my young dog, he stole it for me
[verse 3: stanwill]
have my n+gga beam post up like he kobe somethin’
love me in my city, n+ggas treat me like i’m [?]
green beam on every bl!ck, they think i’m obi+wan
took your salary to somerset, i might just blow a hun’
[verse 4: kasher quon]
i took fifty to the—
i took fifty to the airport, i’m goin’ out of town
n+ggas still tryna sell one, i just smoked a pound
ran into my opp at the mall, i should’ve smoked him now
[verse 5: stanwill]
what i’m playin’ daily, you could only play for prom for real
all this christian dior, you would think i pray to god for real
life a gamble, i’m just tryna play the odds for real
rollin’ with militia, boy, if i don’t think i spray the god [?]
[verse 6: kasher quon & stanwill]
rolled a point two in your ‘wood, you ain’t high for real
pop him while he down, makin’ sure he die for real
my b+tch sick of me, she said, “it’s the lies you tell”
sh+t, my b+tch sick of me, so i bought her ysl
told her hurry up, i got a first class flight at 12
went and bust the rollie, they keep sayin’ time’ll tell
i went and bust my chain, they thought i was broke as h+ll
b+tch think i’m apollo off the creed, she know the spell
that fake+ass jesus piece, you goin’ straight to h+ll
let ’em fl!ck the lights on us, you know we racin’ 12
i’m smokin’ out the ‘bow, your dirty ass smokin’ tails
catch me uppin’ rackies on the b+tches, playin’ show and tell
[verse 7: kasher quon]
thirty+five for my piece, another thousand for the bale
you only buyin’ a three+five, why the f+ck i need a scale?
what the f+ck i need a scale for?
ain’t fine with the ‘bows, that’s what we got the mail for
[verse 8: stanwill]
actin’ like he tough, we know he soft as elmo
who the f+ck is [?], him is what i tell hoes
say she wanna f+ck, but i can tell, though
he don’t do prosthetics ’round this b+tch but unky sell ‘bows
[outro: stanwill]
huh, b+tch, dog sh+t militia
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