Song parody of
Body Count
by Moncler Boys
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I dedicate this song to that little rat-ass light-skinned bitch, she know who she is
Finger-fuckin' blues in my pockets, I got paper cuts
Riding around paris asking niggas were the Foreign sluts
Your bitch got some fat shit in the back, I call it Bubble butt
My barber named Tank he gave the opps a Free uppercuts
Cuz still scammin' off the same pros from last Week
I toted the P.L.R. and had him runnin' like a Track meet
Doc got fried up in the jam, he couldn't beat The streets
This bitch claim she vegetarian, but all she Wanna eat is meat
Ten, twenty, fifty damn, a hundred, I can't even Count
Cutty said he got some big shit, that's a large Amount
Bitch asked me twenty one questions, that's Her body count
Naw, that shit really had me fucked up, bro
We really buildin' shit, nigga fuck band for Band, bitch go brick for brick
He really is not your mans, don't pull up with a Hundred sticks
Nigga, you don't got no bands, you can fold That shit
KelBandz, got a fifty cal with a cooling kit
Yo ass in school nigga, you gon get dismissed bitch
They popped him like a fuckin' pimple, not a fuckin' zit, bitch
They took his fuckin' life support away, not no Insurance shit
Girlie lookin' sad as hell, I told her to come eat The dick
Fs on my fuckin' Fendi belt, this ain't Franchise
Money from two thousand and one, bitch, you Got ten fives
Shout out my barber, V hit me up for a fresh Line
Off white glasses in the summer, look at me, I'm fried
Paper cut, fuck a money counter, I need a Bandage
I'm a hit his ass like Thor, pop him with the Hammer
Petty-ass money, all niggas broke, I hear flexin' Chains
In the AMG, get ahead, fuck em, switchin Lanes
B-22s off the beater, I'm a hood nigga
Seven gram wood, knock me out, this bitch Pull different
Hundred years for a brick charge, bitch, you Too finished
Hundred years for a brick charge, bitch, you too finished
Jarrett put a switch on the car, turned me to a Lion
LMG with a coolant kit, it's finna get violent
She just ate my dick like the wood, she finna Face it proudly
Tris Wock, Morton nigga, don't give me no Fuckn' qually
I dine ran it up off the scams, I'm finna pop a Molly
Bitch on my dick, I told her ass, don't worry Bout it
Pretty bitch, now she got some ass, I'ma beat It proudly
Hit the cart, now I'm moonwalkin' like a Thriller zombie, fuck
I had your bitch walkin' on the moon, she Screamin' he he
I feel like Baby Smoove, I was broke, punchin' TVs
I dedicate this song to that little rat-ass light-skinned bitch, she know who she is
Finger-fuckin' blues in my pockets, I got paper cuts
Riding around paris asking niggas were the Foreign sluts
Your bitch got some fat shit in the back, I call it Bubble butt
My barber named Tank he gave the opps a Free uppercuts
Cuz still scammin' off the same pros from last Week
I toted the P.L.R. and had him runnin' like a Track meet
Doc got fried up in the jam, he couldn't beat The streets
This bitch claim she vegetarian, but all she Wanna eat is meat
Ten, twenty, fifty damn, a hundred, I can't even Count
Cutty said he got some big shit, that's a large Amount
Bitch asked me twenty one questions, that's Her body count
Naw, that shit really had me fucked up, bro
We really buildin' shit, nigga fuck band for Band, bitch go brick for brick
He really is not your mans, don't pull up with a Hundred sticks
Nigga, you don't got no bands, you can fold That shit
KelBandz, got a fifty cal with a cooling kit
Yo ass in school nigga, you gon get dismissed bitch
They popped him like a fuckin' pimple, not a fuckin' zit, bitch
They took his fuckin' life support away, not no Insurance shit
Girlie lookin' sad as hell, I told her to come eat The dick
Fs on my fuckin' Fendi belt, this ain't Franchise
Money from two thousand and one, bitch, you Got ten fives
Shout out my barber, V hit me up for a fresh Line
Off white glasses in the summer, look at me, I'm fried
Paper cut, fuck a money counter, I need a Bandage
I'm a hit his ass like Thor, pop him with the Hammer
Petty-ass money, all niggas broke, I hear flexin' Chains
In the AMG, get ahead, fuck em, switchin Lanes
B-22s off the beater, I'm a hood nigga
Seven gram wood, knock me out, this bitch Pull different
Hundred years for a brick charge, bitch, you Too finished
Hundred years for a brick charge, bitch, you too finished
Jarrett put a switch on the car, turned me to a Lion
LMG with a coolant kit, it's finna get violent
She just ate my dick like the wood, she finna Face it proudly
Tris Wock, Morton nigga, don't give me no Fuckn' qually
I dine ran it up off the scams, I'm finna pop a Molly
Bitch on my dick, I told her ass, don't worry Bout it
Pretty bitch, now she got some ass, I'ma beat It proudly
Hit the cart, now I'm moonwalkin' like a Thriller zombie, fuck
I had your bitch walkin' on the moon, she Screamin' he he
I feel like Baby Smoove, I was broke, punchin' TVs
