Turntable Lyrics

That bitch dangerous, money, boy, shit, I get it

Don't got her mychart, smell check, pussy, i put my finger i jt know what I mean, man, yeah, I get it

Don't got her mic turned, smell, check the pussy, I put my finger on it

Ice caps look like crack cocaine, the smell of lingerie

Book drink, the hoe poured up a pint and sipped two liters

Bougie bitch, when she walk in the room, won't even speak to niggas

We're the creatures, Gen 5, I'm in feature with it

Fucked around, cut my wife bitch off, cause she don't season chicken

Smoke dirty ass weed, but black ass, you don't even rinse it

You know they out to get you like Peter Parker, gotta use your senses

Watch how I act crazy with the money, born is what this is

Play football with your bitch, she gon' plant it

Pyrex on the stove, come and pick it up, you ain't servin' dinner

Like a clerk, can't fuckin' with the scales, push cash in

To re-promote, arrogant with the money, I'm a fast man

I don't reignite the balls because it's urgent mail, I do fashion

Pussy without the smell, I like IG models, I put badge

My nigga blew 50,000 on the scat just to crash

She throwin' skinny jeans, she can barely fit her ass in

I can fly her out and buy designer things, I'm not her last nigga

Crash dummies, niggas turn to flunkies cause we passin

If I gotta kill a nigga at the store, bro, paper bags with it

2 for 1, watch them niggas die on the scully mask

You the plug, but they run off with the paper, gullible ass nigga

You the type to lay with the hoes, cuddle up ass nigga

Erectile dysfunction with the hoes, diss wash your ass nigga

Every time I drop another song, I put the crack in

When you fuck me, tell a bitch to use your hips and put your back in

At the track, Viz did his thing, months later, he was back in

I'm at Davidson, got a kitchen sale, got weed in a pack

Mafioso shit, the mob get on your ass, won't leave a track with us

You smokin' on that Bush shit, I brought ice caps

Illegal bun on the Glock 19, in case I fact

Young and turnt, bitch, and you know my pockets really fat

Call Oregon, I can't really see myself around no rap

We got there at 10, 6, 30 PM, leavin' sacks nigga

Wear protection when you fuckin' on these hoes, they used to trap niggas

The pussy good, slip and slide in it, took a nap in it

I don't believe with niggas rappin' in they songs, it cause they cap me

I left music alone, 2021, but now I'm back in it

I won't break my back to do anything, unless it's authentic

5-7, order 6-2 motors, I don't lease or rent it

You say, what about your shooter, he in the spittle and that nigga critical

Treat a little bitch like Ice Spice, I wasn't even feelin' him

Paragraph after paragraph, I wasn't even missin' him

I can't see myself, I've been a slut, that's the bare minimum