Parkin' Lot Sippin'
Divine the Chef
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Aye man, say man Took a perc, throw on the ray-bans I heard it's a drought, do the rain dance I apply pressure like fake Xans Get to the bag like Joe Nathan How he not high, he smoked 8 grams I will not lie I got 8 friends Went and invested like 8 bands Like NFTs, and JPGs, tell a bitch ass nigga don't play with me, Hit the hoe, on her line, ask her come kick it like PSG I'm on LSD, I took LSD, my bitch like, what do ya' third eye see This not FanDuel, bitch, we do not parlay for the free Butter roll, tell my lil bae I wan' lick her hole (Wan' lick it) Me and my bro used to share a pole (One stick it) Niggas they sweeter than Haribo's I'm in the paint and I'm throwin' bows (Throwin' 'em, throwin' em) I kill any nigga, like Leopold He wanted a t shirt, so we talk in code Then we go rob his ass down the road (Uhh, uhh) I swang in the rain like I'm Paul Wall I wan' f*ck her, she call off (She do) She gon' gnaw both of my balls off Cuddle my bitch 'til she knod off Cuddle my racks I won't fall off I'm on the block nigga, all ball The ref upset lookin for foul calls Where the tech, nigga I just wanna
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"Parkin' Lot Sippin' Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 31 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/7156622/Divine+the+Chef/Parkin%27+Lot+Sippin%27>.
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