SEAFLOOR (feat. miles)
Boi Mystery
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They ain't catch me lackin', that was never a question And I might take your hoe, but your boy got fake depression Why you stressin' out, you know that shorty for the streets She accidentally grab my Smith and Wesson feelin' for my meat I asked you your perspective, what you feel, what you believe, boy I don't want attention, I just wanna be on the scene more And I been grindin', I'm finna blow up just like a C4 All my VV's shinin' like the bottom of the seafloor Chillin' off the gas, you know this is the life that chose me You won't ever ever see me go back to the old me Lead the league in scorin', think I'm averagin' like forty Get your hoe, she whorin', I'm just coolin' with my shorty And when we pull up to the function we like four-deep I can't even answer her now, cuz she ignore me I'ma go drop forty I don't even need no spendin' money, cuz I'm scoring Cartier cost fourteen Pounds prolly cost fourteen If you in my whip, then the pedal to the floor, b If you mess with me, then I'ma give yo ass a four-piece Cruisin' Forest Drive Hills, like it's two-thousand and fourteen But that's another story We in the hotbox, step out the DeLorean Never put a thot in my order of importance Love to chase the bag just as much as I love recordin' What to do about my hoes, I never get 'em sorted Everything I got inside my garage is for performance So what did you expect when I copped all those Jordans Slim roll some Dutches, and we sippin' Coke and Morgan I had to kill 'em off, ain't mean to make it morbid Chillin' in the stu, you know I'm with the boy, recordin' F*ck your bitch and leave her, cuz you know she actin' borin' Know I'm goin' hard, I'm on my bullshit like I'm Jordan Chillin' on my cool shit, now I'm drivin' in the foreign I'm gettin' bands, yuh You know your shorty seein' me, she in a trance, yuh She feelin' on me like there's VV's in my pants, yah These pussy n****s wanna be me, understand, yuh I'm throwin' bands, yah They ain't catch me lackin', that was never a question And I might take your hoe, but your boy got fake depression Why you stressin' out, you know that shorty for the streets She accidentally grab my Smith and Wesson feelin' for my meat I asked you your perspective, what you feel, what you believe, boy I don't want attention, I just wanna be on the scene more I been grindin', I'm finna blow up just like a C4 All my VV's shinin' like the bottom of the seafloor (Whoa whoa whoa whoa) (Yea, yea, yea, yeah) (Whoa, Whoa, Whoa) (Just like the)
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"SEAFLOOR (feat. miles) Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 15 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/6891272/Boi+Mystery/SEAFLOOR+%28feat.+miles%29>.
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