Cut Me Off Songtext
von Cam Meekins
Cut Me Off Songtext
Sick spitter with the flow shit bitter like burned butter
But I bang on the game pick Pain but burn blunters
No games while you David and bustered
I′m gettin flustered
Rollin down my windows askin for fuckin mustard
Small fries on these fast food rappers I take em out
Pick plenty pop rappers I'll smash with no clout
Smash mouth
What I raised on my lines doin coke
That post nasal drip got me literally spittin crack
Get back. with These toys no need for decoys
I′m out in beantown gettin brain like BC boys
But fuck a university is what had just occurred to me
Cause I been writin raps way before the fuckin nursery
Ya ya we know I'm ballin like a free throw
And that's my alter ego but on God I′m real Bro
Bowl cruisin a passat no facades in my bars on the track spit stomach full
Of scars bitch Ahhh
But you didn′t have to cut me off
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
But you didn′t have to cut me off
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
But you didn't have to cut me off
Now you′re just somebody that I used to know
But you didn't have to cut me off
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
Flick flicking the blunt the flipped spitter
Pick pounds of the best picked piffs And spliff litterly
Seeds in my weed no need just ask lex
Smoke mad hash fall to the ground don′t pass tests
I'm a neva need know help
Not even we know
Displeased if my trees low
Being baked liketros
No motivation in
Our generation
I'm jus chillin in a basement lookin for any occasion and man
I be outty playin hooty fruity tooty rap records on my way to ruby
Tuesday′s or the movies
Buyin rounds on yo bitch ass
Watch this gold record fly by bitch think fast get whip lash
I came in the game just to claim what I can
Lyricism on these off brand bitches with no lane
No backpack puffin a sack it′s fuck frat rap
Tryna act hard you should get some fuckin arm Tats
I ain't in college I ain′t even go to class
Back in high school but you know a motha fucka passed
Pass blunts to the left side no ash on my dashboard
Whores tryna ride with us but I don't even skateboard
Stickin digits in they cellular devices
I′m a nicer guy in person on theses bronchitis
And these teens fuck widdit like
Model bitches gold diggin
Real with my rap game u just Nicole kidmann
Are you kiddin?
But I bang on the game pick Pain but burn blunters
No games while you David and bustered
I′m gettin flustered
Rollin down my windows askin for fuckin mustard
Small fries on these fast food rappers I take em out
Pick plenty pop rappers I'll smash with no clout
Smash mouth
What I raised on my lines doin coke
That post nasal drip got me literally spittin crack
Get back. with These toys no need for decoys
I′m out in beantown gettin brain like BC boys
But fuck a university is what had just occurred to me
Cause I been writin raps way before the fuckin nursery
Ya ya we know I'm ballin like a free throw
And that's my alter ego but on God I′m real Bro
Bowl cruisin a passat no facades in my bars on the track spit stomach full
Of scars bitch Ahhh
But you didn′t have to cut me off
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
But you didn′t have to cut me off
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
But you didn't have to cut me off
Now you′re just somebody that I used to know
But you didn't have to cut me off
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
Flick flicking the blunt the flipped spitter
Pick pounds of the best picked piffs And spliff litterly
Seeds in my weed no need just ask lex
Smoke mad hash fall to the ground don′t pass tests
I'm a neva need know help
Not even we know
Displeased if my trees low
Being baked liketros
No motivation in
Our generation
I'm jus chillin in a basement lookin for any occasion and man
I be outty playin hooty fruity tooty rap records on my way to ruby
Tuesday′s or the movies
Buyin rounds on yo bitch ass
Watch this gold record fly by bitch think fast get whip lash
I came in the game just to claim what I can
Lyricism on these off brand bitches with no lane
No backpack puffin a sack it′s fuck frat rap
Tryna act hard you should get some fuckin arm Tats
I ain't in college I ain′t even go to class
Back in high school but you know a motha fucka passed
Pass blunts to the left side no ash on my dashboard
Whores tryna ride with us but I don't even skateboard
Stickin digits in they cellular devices
I′m a nicer guy in person on theses bronchitis
And these teens fuck widdit like
Model bitches gold diggin
Real with my rap game u just Nicole kidmann
Are you kiddin?
Writer(s): Cameron James Meekins Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com