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sweet t - $weeties lyrics

[verse]
on the mic’, and i’m talkin’ crunchie munchie
i just beat her doonies down, now she can’t find her scrunchy
i don’t know that scam sh+t, but this fit is yellin’, “punch me”
man, all sweet to the hoes, but i’ll treat a rat like lunch meat
i can stay in the city, and earn my wage monthly
but i’ll prolly make more off one trip to the country
and it’s funny, ’cause i’m whiter than some undies
but i pick up the mic’ and k!ll sh+t like ted bundy
if i don’t have a vape and a wood, then i’m grumpy
my fiend bought his b+tch the big rock like chirs humphrey’s
face the whole thing in front of me then say, “hey, can you front mе?”
i’ma tear down the city and then lay up nicе and comfy
i don’t rock champion, that sh+t is for the needy
champion in the stu’, but i never ate my wheaties
so d+mn sweet, i’ll give a b+tch type 2 diabetes
when the feds right behind me, i get the heebee jeebees
i’ll steal your beat and make it fire, that’s larceny and arson
i’m all about the green, you woulda thought i was a spartan
in two years, i’m pullin’ up, sp+ce coupe like a martian
with a bad b+tch that looks like jenna waters from [mario?]
i got a magnet on the glock and my hip is made of steel
i’ll put a ham on the news, like april o’neil
i just pulled up on danny, he said, “[?], what’s the deal?”
unc reppin’ mc, he shoot the tar in his heel
my man got a dmt, toed wax, molly and boomers
i heard your busts fake as h+ll and your chains made of pewter
i’ll take your b+tch to the crib, and then beat down the dooners
i get a bag or go home like allstar junior
i don’t have time to waste ’cause i wanna skate on roochies
i just got the face, she said you hate her coochie
rolled a four gram ‘wood and then gave that b+tch a smoochie
my brother said he got more blues than john belushi’s
got off on a ham, i told ’em, “send the bread through zelle”
baby draco on the couch lookin’ like kid ale
but that b+tch sings, like shantelle and adele
i got two twin glocks, i call ’em keenan and kell
my pack is like a cactus, that sh+t is green and sticky
green seam on the jeans and green beam on the bl!cky
it’s some green in his cup, he was tryna be thrifty
the percs turn my fiend green, he just snorted all fifty
i’ll bring the pack anywhere, like the krusty krab pizza
pour a deuce, now i’m leanin’ like that tower in pisa
i just hit a ham’s cup, with milk of magnesia
bro caught a body in detroit and then moved to chichen itza
[?] lay a ham down like some tile
shooter on speed dial, it ain’t 12 mile kyle
whenever i see a big water blues, i smile
up at the lab with ‘wood smoke in my esophogus
got confidence, ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ this, that sh+t is obvious
i pull up on the plug and bust the roll out like optimus
ridin’ with that sh+t that’ll drop a hippopotamus
tell the feds i don’t serve fiends, i sip coffee in the lobby
i’m a nine to five boy, that rappin’ sh+t is just a hobby
but everybody loves it ’cause it’s hotter than wasabi
mixed man hit the pipe and then he met the anunaki
big stick in my trunk, but i don’t do no hockey
put thirty rounds on him, he just got bukkake’d
i got a big ass ego, but i’m not too c+cky
i’ll have my shooter get you gone for a bag of blue takis
he don’t really wanna blow the strap, he just wanna pump fake
everytime your b+tch hear my track, she make her [?] shake
etbg, we’ll treat the booty like some rum cake
you went to ot, we call your man on his lunch break

- sweet t lyrics

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