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Correct Get The Fuck Off My Dick Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: V
►
Vince Staples
►
Correct Get The Fuck Off My Dick
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Lyrics:
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick Yeah, I ain't taking no more calls, might think 'bout calling it quits Press is trying to block my blessings, no more talking to Vince NPR and XXL, man, I can't tell which is which Missed the mark, I think my label need a marketing switch Hold up, switch the flow up, I won't roll for nothing Rappers ho up, then they blow up, guess who do the fucking? VMA and Grammy snubbing, not walking through no clubs Homie you can keep your money, it don't do nothing for me Heard they looking for me yeah, you're a dummy yeah Have somebody find your body parts, run and run it, yeah Ay bay-bay, ain't for play, sear the steaks, steal the Wraith (And them Wraiths is ugly, by the way We see you got money to spend, but, nonetheless) Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick I'm from Ramona, no school diploma We caught him slipping, he in a coma You got two choices, lose your life or your persona I still hear voices from them nights I hit them corners Walked through the MOMA, just did the feature, hit the scene And blew the quota, I might do Toshiyuki Kita for the sofa Might save my Nike check and spend my Coca-Cola Don't count my packets, pocket rocket leave you tore up Time to glow up, from the floor up how I came You don't know my pain, bitch, don't act like you don't know my name Don't record me man, bitch, you see me trying to board this plane Don't you touch my frame, still the one who bust you in your brain I don't fuck with fame, you don't see me in no fucking chains Ain't no fucking slave, Def Jam ain't gon' put me on no pay This the sound I made, won't nobody knock me off my wave I'm the god in this, fuck up off my dick Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
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