Limpiate Adikta (part. Ovyze)

Ah, Kuina, yeah
From the Southside, hey
Bunnyambitionboi, ah
Ayo, Ovyze, what the hell are you doing?

In Wisconsin, got girls in the car, long nails
Cruising in a limo, you went too far, baby
I don’t smell, I send pics of her feet
I paid for her pedicure and she gave me her thong
These bitches wanna be me
Your girl thinks she’s fancy but she just looks trashy
Clean up, addict, ridiculous, I’m just an alcoholic
I’m sober, greeting the same fools always, uh

Tired of people, making a scene
Thought about your neck and caught you again
I just want a rapper with bleached hair
To tell me: I love you, and leave my ass pink
Liar and singer, pretty boy and spicy
I said I loved you, but I’ve done this before
I said it’s discipline, that I can’t fall in love
I’ll listen to Andrea and get to work-work-work

I don’t answer the phone, L for love
She took off my panties and says I’m her crush
She said: "Babe, if you want, I’ll sing to you"
I wrote you songs, but I only talk horror
Did you see how much we make in a week?
They insist, the bag has five grams
They click, my name is getting more expensive
I wanna be a popstar and have her pussy in my hand

Mmm, I don’t wanna be with those hoes, I’m fried
Table flower, thinks she’s a sensation
Shout my name, all my friends on the list
Without having to suck off any of these artists
All your backpacks are hoe-hoe-hoe
Merry Christmas, I gave up, ah, redeemed, ah
Your kitty that takes off her panties and screams
Wants me to keep going after you visit her

Pretty face, magazine style
Ring on my fingers, I got more selfish
All my brothers, looking like stars
If they have complaints, go and get in line
[Pre-chorus]
I’m feeling crazy and wanna keep giving it to you
This doesn’t suffocate me, I know I was born for the flash
The groupies and the coke, I leave that to these fools
I’ll listen to Andrea and get to work-work-work

I don’t answer the phone, L for love
She took off my panties and says I’m her crush
She said: Babe, if you want, I’ll sing to you
I wrote you songs, but I only talk horror
Did you see how much we make in a week?
They insist, the bag has five grams
They click, my name is getting more expensive
I wanna be a popstar and have her pussy in my hand

All your backpacks are hoe-hoe-hoe
All your backpacks are hoe-hoe-hoe-hoe
All your backpacks are hoe-hoe-hoe
All your backpacks are hoe-hoe-hoe-hoe
All your backpacks are hoe-hoe-hoe
All your backpacks are hoe-hoe-hoe-hoe
All your backpacks are hoe-hoe-hoe
All your backpacks are hoe-hoe-hoe-hoe