Dreezy
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Jackson 5

Dreezy


Uh-oh, uh-oh
Ay. ay

[Verse 1]
Still that bitch with all the guys
like Janet and the Jackson 5
Told 'em I'd be rich by twenty-five
now hoes actin' surprised
Made it out to Hollywood
I still ain't lost my ratchet side
Bitch think she flexin' in that fit
I told her, "Even maggots fly"
Red eye I'm jet laggin' (Jet laggin')
since rode in the band wagon (Band wagon)
New whip, I don't even wanna drive that shit
prolly let my mans have it (Skrrt, skrrt)
Folks know I got a Xan habit
If you pull the Glock out
I wouldn't stand by it (Watch out)
This that drip that ain't online
you'll have to go hand buy it
Yeah, A-M-G-6-3, with the window tint
I don't even see no bitch (I don't even see no ho)
Know I'm a star I could go bar for bar
I don't even need no hit (Uh-huh)
Princess cut, my diamonds crushed up
had to go bleed my wrist
Neiman Marcus, private shopper
had to double C my fit

Very rare, perfect derriere, I give him hell though
I'm everywhere, Gucci carrier but I don't sell, dope
Got all these niggas trippin'
Shoe ain't laced, go switch to velcro
Think you steppin'? Get to poppin' at your feet
You rockin' shell toes
Me and mine? We gon' ride like it's Universal
Foreign cars outside you bitches ain't never heard of
Goin' off everytime and I can tell it hurts ‘em
If you on the other side, I hope you take it personal
I cannot go back and forth with you
I got work to do (Lil' bitch)
You don't have to see me, you gon' hear me first
Them Perelli's skirting, ooh
Bank account checked up, VVS'd up
Bitch, I got right now, fuck who next up

I'm so fuckin' dope, I might just make my own strain
How these bitches ain't got clout
but tryna make a OnlyFans? (Dummy)
We made it so I'm faded just like when the song ends
I'm so up, next offer I might tell the label, "No, advance"
I ain't tryna make new friends
but I'll let that nigga be my Paypal
Mean muggin' phone like a horn [?]
With some real bitches, we don't fake smile
Pretty as fuck, so whenever he nut
nigga tell me don't put my face down
Slim and Shady, spit it like 8 Mile
Bitches only hitting from the waist down

Very rare, perfect derriere, I give him hell though
I'm everywhere, Gucci carrier but I don't sell, dope
Got all these niggas trippin'
Shoe ain't laced, switch to velcro
Think you steppin'? Get to poppin' at your feet
You rockin' shell toes
Me and mine? We gon' ride like it's Universal
Foreign cars outside you bitches ain't never heard of
Goin' off every time and I can tell it hurts ‘em
If you on the other side, I hope you take it personal
I cannot go back and forth with you
I got work to do (Lil' bitch)
You don't have to see me, you gon' hear me first
Them Perelli's skirting, ooh
Bank account checked up, VVS'd up
Bitch, I got right now, fuck who next up

Compositores: Alexander Hollis Chauncey (Chauncey A Hollis), Quentin M Miller (Milla), Seandrea Sledge (Dreezy)
ECAD: Obra #34481064

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