tramp Stamp Songtext
von Veeze
tramp Stamp Songtext
(DDot cold as a motherfucker on God) yeah
How I′m gon' leave how I came in
Fake broke on a bitch, ′cause she fake bad
Tried to fuck 'fore I asked what her name is
Airplane mode on a bitch, she ain't say yes
Unlaced Ricks, my mind playin′ tricks
Replays at the hoes that I paid to hit
You want a competition, first catch my attention
Niggas fakin′ litty, leave that for the bitches
Fake love all I'm gettin′, "Veeze what's that you sippin′?"
Four of red make my cream soda look like a penny
The drank be callin' me the most when I think ′bout quittin'
Slimeball like P. Diddy, cakewalk to get it
Most sons in history, I should be in Guinness
I can't incriminate, I live illegitimate
Need to stop makin′ hoes snakes ′fore they kill me
Need to stop makin' promises, I know I live fast
She fuckin′ on a famous nigga, I know that pussy wet
You lonely enough to fuck a lame nigga, I feel bad
I'm puttin it up, my money old just like a granddad
I′m rich enough to put her son in piano actin' classes
I′m the first nigga from my hood with jet lag
I'm a dirty pop king, I'm buyin′ Neverland
I′ma go black and white shorts, Everlast
Said she wanna tat "Veeze" told her "Tramp stamp it"
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp it"
Said she wanna tat, "Veeze", yeah, tramp stamp
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp"
Bitch, you wanna tat, "Veeze", uh, tramp stamp
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp"
Yeah, I'm in
I′ma fuck the fame up, still get the weight gone
I can't wear no Bally baby, used to be my play clothes
Lot of shit in my blood, but it ain′t no hate though
Fuck the TSA though, Jet Turks and Caicos
No persistent pay though, broke men hobbies
Kept a 4 off the pint, pour an Aaron Rodgers
Dog mad, he ain't got no damn dollars
She told me every problem while we was havin′ Lobster
4 damn pockets, pokin' out it's obvious
I′ll spend every dollar on a dead body
200k profit, me and Swan Mafia
Lil bro on the high key got exotic broccoli
Blicky got me comfy, Xanny got me confident
Crooked always plottin′, gangster Bumpy Johnson
Type of nigga see you ballin' and wanna foul you
Type of nigga gettin′ nowhere dick-ridin' (gang)
(DDot cold as a motherfucker on God)
How I′m gon' leave how I came in
Fake broke on a bitch, ′cause she fake bad
Tried to fuck 'fore I asked what her name is
Airplane mode on a bitch, she ain't say yes
Unlaced Ricks, my mind playin′ tricks
Replays at the hoes that I paid to hit
You want a competition, first catch my attention
Niggas fakin′ litty, leave that for the bitches
Fake love all I'm gettin′, "Veeze what's that you sippin′?"
Four of red make my cream soda look like a penny
The drank be callin' me the most when I think ′bout quittin'
Slimeball like P. Diddy, cakewalk to get it
Most sons in history, I should be in Guinness
I can't incriminate, I live illegitimate
Need to stop makin′ hoes snakes ′fore they kill me
Need to stop makin' promises, I know I live fast
She fuckin′ on a famous nigga, I know that pussy wet
You lonely enough to fuck a lame nigga, I feel bad
I'm puttin it up, my money old just like a granddad
I′m rich enough to put her son in piano actin' classes
I′m the first nigga from my hood with jet lag
I'm a dirty pop king, I'm buyin′ Neverland
I′ma go black and white shorts, Everlast
Said she wanna tat "Veeze" told her "Tramp stamp it"
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp it"
Said she wanna tat, "Veeze", yeah, tramp stamp
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp"
Bitch, you wanna tat, "Veeze", uh, tramp stamp
Yeah, I told her, "Tramp stamp"
Yeah, I'm in
I′ma fuck the fame up, still get the weight gone
I can't wear no Bally baby, used to be my play clothes
Lot of shit in my blood, but it ain′t no hate though
Fuck the TSA though, Jet Turks and Caicos
No persistent pay though, broke men hobbies
Kept a 4 off the pint, pour an Aaron Rodgers
Dog mad, he ain't got no damn dollars
She told me every problem while we was havin′ Lobster
4 damn pockets, pokin' out it's obvious
I′ll spend every dollar on a dead body
200k profit, me and Swan Mafia
Lil bro on the high key got exotic broccoli
Blicky got me comfy, Xanny got me confident
Crooked always plottin′, gangster Bumpy Johnson
Type of nigga see you ballin' and wanna foul you
Type of nigga gettin′ nowhere dick-ridin' (gang)
(DDot cold as a motherfucker on God)
Writer(s): Delanious Ward, Karon Vantress Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
