Catastrophe Songtext
von Ken Carson
Catastrophe Songtext
(Wake up, F1LTHY)
Ain′t no brands on my clothes, this not H&M
Too much, yeah, I can go band for band with the ATM
Send her a late DM, now she want to text
Huh, now she want to sex, yeah, I'ma give her the X
Huh, put that bitch on her neck
I got her in a three-point stance
She ask me what brand my pants
"Robin jeans," I rob your mans
Take your money, then I hit my dance
Loaded, woah, ho I′m out the shits, pop-out, a fan want to take a pic
When you pop out, don't nobody notice, you'll never live like this
If you don′t feel me, don′t speak on it, shut up
He think he Lil Wayne 'cause he got him a milli′, lil' nigga, bet up
Stones on my neck, huh, I feel like Rosetta
She gon′ do what I let her, she gon' do what I tell her
She gon′ do what I said, 'cause I'm the one havin′ them racks and shit
It′s a great chaos, but I'm havin′ more, now it's a catastrophe
Upside-down cross on my neck, they think it′s blasphemy
Hope you got insurance on your bitch, 'cause I hit her on accident
Holdin′ a TEC, yeah, I'm boardin' the jet, popped a G6 on a G6
Said you gon′ do what? Huh? Too much, huh? Move like Donald Trump
Pockets stick out like the mumps, take your bitch to Sephora
You can be my Barbie, huh, if I adore ya
I have ′em keyed like Swizz, ain't sharin′ shit, huh, you can't get a switch
Pour out the seal, yeah, codeine, codeine, I can′t feel shit
Huh, huh, huh, I came a long way, I came from the dirt
She came more than once, now I got it on my shirt
I'm havin′ Franklins, not Kirk
I'm not a jock, bitch, or a jerk
I take a thot bitch and turn her up
In this bitch, just me and my cup
Don't measure shit, just pour that shit up
Got a blick, you know that it′s tucked
No competition, these niggas suck
I′m sendin' shots, better duck
You better have a bulletproof truck
Say you a opp, nigga, link up
AR-15 sing Aretha, I slimed out my teacher
Green shirt clutchin′ on my blick, bitch, it's nice to meet you
You can keep the good girls, bring me the thots and eaters
You can′t calculate this shit, lil' bitch, I′m off the meter, huh, huh, huh
You can't calculate this shit, 'cause I′m off the meter, yeah
Ain′t no brands on my clothes, this not H&M
Too much, yeah, I can go band for band with the ATM
Send her a late DM, now she want to text
Huh, now she want to sex, yeah, I'ma give her the X
Huh, put that bitch on her neck
I got her in a three-point stance
She ask me what brand my pants
"Robin jeans," I rob your mans
Take your money, then I hit my dance
Loaded, woah, ho I′m out the shits, pop-out, a fan want to take a pic
When you pop out, don't nobody notice, you'll never live like this
If you don′t feel me, don′t speak on it, shut up
He think he Lil Wayne 'cause he got him a milli′, lil' nigga, bet up
Stones on my neck, huh, I feel like Rosetta
She gon′ do what I let her, she gon' do what I tell her
She gon′ do what I said, 'cause I'm the one havin′ them racks and shit
It′s a great chaos, but I'm havin′ more, now it's a catastrophe
Upside-down cross on my neck, they think it′s blasphemy
Hope you got insurance on your bitch, 'cause I hit her on accident
Holdin′ a TEC, yeah, I'm boardin' the jet, popped a G6 on a G6
Said you gon′ do what? Huh? Too much, huh? Move like Donald Trump
Pockets stick out like the mumps, take your bitch to Sephora
You can be my Barbie, huh, if I adore ya
I have ′em keyed like Swizz, ain't sharin′ shit, huh, you can't get a switch
Pour out the seal, yeah, codeine, codeine, I can′t feel shit
Huh, huh, huh, I came a long way, I came from the dirt
She came more than once, now I got it on my shirt
I'm havin′ Franklins, not Kirk
I'm not a jock, bitch, or a jerk
I take a thot bitch and turn her up
In this bitch, just me and my cup
Don't measure shit, just pour that shit up
Got a blick, you know that it′s tucked
No competition, these niggas suck
I′m sendin' shots, better duck
You better have a bulletproof truck
Say you a opp, nigga, link up
AR-15 sing Aretha, I slimed out my teacher
Green shirt clutchin′ on my blick, bitch, it's nice to meet you
You can keep the good girls, bring me the thots and eaters
You can′t calculate this shit, lil' bitch, I′m off the meter, huh, huh, huh
You can't calculate this shit, 'cause I′m off the meter, yeah
Writer(s): Kenyatta Frazier Jr., Richard Ortiz Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
